" 


[See  p,  40 

SHE    THRILLED    AT    THE    INTIMACY    THAT     HAD    SPRUNG 
UP     BETWEEN    THEM 


THE  IRON  TRAIL 


An  Alaskan  Romance 


By  REX  BEACH 

Author  of  "The  Net,"  "  The  '  Ne'er-Do- Well,"  "The 
Spoilers,"  "  The  Silver  Horde,"  Etc. 


With  Four  Illustrations 
By  M.  LEONE  BRACKER 


A.  L  BURT  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 

114-120  East  Twenty-third  Street      -       -       New  York 

PUBLISHED  BY  ARRANGEMENT  WITH  HARPER  &  BROTHERS 


Copyright,  1913,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 
Copyright,  1912,  i9I3,  by  The  Ridgway  Company 
"          '  '      '      United   f 
ied  Aug- 

M-N 


Printed  in  the  United    States  of  America 
Published  August,  1913 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  IN  WHICH  THE  TIDE  TAKES  A  HAND I 

II.  How  A  GIRL  APPEARED  OUT  OF  THE  NIGHT      .    .  17 

III.  THE  IRISH  PRINCE       26 

IV.  How  A  JOURNEY  ENDED  AT  HOPE 35 

V.  WHEREIN  WE  SEE  CURTIS  GORDON  AND  OTHERS  .  49 

VI.  THE  DREAMER 65 

VII.  THE  DREAM 84 

VIII.  IN  WHICH  WE  COME  TO  OMAR 99 

IX.  WHEREIN  GORDON  SHOWS  His  TEETH 117 

X.  IN  WHICH  THE  DOCTOR  SHOWS  His  WIT  .    .    .    .  130 

XI.  THE  Two  SIDES  OF  ELIZA  VIOLET  APPLETON    .    .  151 

XII.  How  GORDON  FAILED  IN  His  CUNNING     ....  165 

XIII.  WE  JOURNEY  TO  A  PLACE  OF  MANY  WONDERS      .  183 

XIV.  How  THE  TRUTH  CAME  TO  ELIZA 199 

XV.  THE  BATTLE  OF  GORDON'S  CROSSING 215 

XVI.  THE  FRUIT  OF  THE  TEMPEST 238 

XVII.  How  THE  PRINCE  BECAME  A  MAN  ...    .,   .    .    .  247 

XVIII.  How  THE  MAN  BECAME  A  PRINCE  AGAIN)    .    .    .  257 

XIX.  Miss  APPLETON  MAKES  A  SACRIFICE,  .    ,„   ..    .    .  268 

XX.  How  GORDON  CHANGED  His  ATTACK  ...    .    *   r.     .  282 

XXI.  DAN  APPLETON  SLIPS  THE  LEASH     ..  ,v   &   •*   .-    •  293 

XXII.  How  THE  HAZARD  WAS  PLAYED  .1   t,   *  ^    ..«  -.    .  313 

XXIII.  A  NEW  CRISIS »*«.*.'..  326 

XXIV.  GORDON'S  FALL -...,>-•    •    •  34° 

XXV.  PREPARATIONS     .    .    .     • 355 

XXVI.  THE  RACE 368 

XXVII.  How  A  DREAM  CAME  TRUE     ,,,,,,,.  380 

M15817 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 


IN  WHICH   THE   TIDE   TAKES   A   HAND 

HP  HE  ship  stole  through  the  darkness  with  ex- 
A  tremest  caution,  feeling  her  way  past  bay  and 
promontory.  Around  her  was  none  of  that  phos 
phorescent  glow  which  lies  above  the  open  ocean, 
even  on  the  darkest  night,  for  the  mountains  ran 
down  to  the  channel  on  either  side.  In  places  they 
overhung,  and  where  they  lay  upturned  against  the 
dim  sky  it  could  be  seen  that  they  were  mantled 
with  heavy  timber.  All  day  long  the  Nebraska  had 
made  her  way  through  an  endless  succession  of 
straits  and  sounds,  now  squeezing  through  an  inlet 
so  narrow  that  the  somber  spruce  trees  seemed  to 
be  within  a  short  stone's-throw,  again  plowing  across 
some  open  reach  where  the  pulse  of  the  north  Pacific 
could  be  felt.  Out  through  the  openings  to  seaward 
stretched  the  restless  ocean,  on  across  uncounted 
leagues,  to  Saghalien  and  the  rim  of  Russia's  prison- 
yard. 

Always  near  at  hand  was  the  deep  green  of  the 
Canadian    forests,    denser,    darker    than    a   tropic 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

jungle,  for  this  was  the  land  of  " plenty  waters." 
The  hillsides  were  carpeted  knee-deep  with  moss, 
wet  to  saturation.  Out  of  every  gulch  came  a  brawl 
ing  stream  whipped  to  milk-white  frenzy;  snow  lay 
heavy  upon  the  higher  levels,  while  now  and  then 
from  farther  inland  peered  a  glacier,  like  some  dead 
monster  crushed  between  the  granite  peaks.  There 
were  villages,  too,  and  fishing-stations,  and  mines 
and  quarries.  These  burst  suddenly  upon  the  view, 
then  slipped  past  with  dreamlike  swiftness.  Other 
ships  swung  into  sight,  rushed  by,  and  were  swal 
lowed  up  in  the  labyrinthine  maze  astern. 

Those  passengers  of  the  Nebraska  who  had  never 
before  traversed  the  "Inside  Passage"  were  loud  in 
the  praises  of  its  picturesqueness,  while  those  to 
whom  the  route  was  familiar  seemed  to  find  an  ever- 
fresh  fascination  in  its  shifting  scenes. 

Among  the  latter  was  Murray  O'Neil.  The  whole 
north  coast  from  Flattery  to  St.  Elias  was  as  well 
mapped  in  his  mind  as  the  face  of  an  old  friend,  yet 
he  was  forever  discovering  new  vistas,  surprising 
panoramas,  amazing  variations  of  color  and  topog 
raphy.  The  mysterious  rifts  and  passageways  that 
opened  and  closed  as  if  to  lure  the  ship  astray,  the 
trackless  confusion  of  islets,  the  siren  song  of  the 
waterfalls,  the  silent  hills  and  glaciers  and  snow- 
soaked  forests — all  appealed  to  him  strongly,  for  he 
was  at  heart  a  dreamer. 

Yet  he  did  not  forget  that  scenery  such  as  this, 
lovely  as  it  is  by  day,  may  be  dangerous  at  night, 
for  he  knew  the  weakness  of  steel  hulls.  On  some 
sides  his  experience  and  business  training  had  made 
him  sternly  practical  and  prosaic.  Ships  aroused  no 
manner  of  enthusiasm  in  him  except  as  means  to  an 

2 


THE   TIDE   TAKES    A    HAND 

end.  Railroads  had  no  glamour  of  romance  in  his 
eyes,  for,  having  built  a  number  of  them,  he  had  out 
lived  all  poetic  notions  regarding  the  "iron  horse," 
and  once  the  rails  were  laid  he  was  apt  to  lose  in 
terest  in  them.  Nevertheless,  he  was  almost  poetic 
in  his  own  quiet  way,  interweaving  practical  thoughts 
with  fanciful  visions,  and  he  loved  his  dreams.  He 
was  dreaming  now  as  he  leaned  upon  the  bridge  rail 
of  the  Nebraska,  peering  into  the  gloom  with  watchful 
eyes.  From  somewhere  to  port  came  the  occasional 
commands  of  the  officer  on  watch,  echoed  instantly 
from  the  inky  interior  of  the  wheelhouse.  Up  over 
side  rose  the  whisper  of  rushing  waters ;  from  under 
foot  came  the  rhythmic  beat  of  the  engines  far  below. 
O'Neil  shook  off  his  mood  and  began  to  wonder  idly 
how  long  it  would  be  before  Captain  Johnny  would 
be  ready  for  his  "nightcap." 

He  always  traveled  with  Johnny  Brennan  when 
he  could  manage  it,  for  the  two  men  were  boon 
companions.  O'Neil  was  wont  to  live  in  Johnny's 
cabin,  or  on  the  bridge,  and  their  nightly  libation 
to  friendship  had  come  to  be  a  matter  of  some 
ceremony. 

The  ship's  master  soon  appeared  from  the  shadows 
— a  short,  trim  man  with  gray  hair. 

"Come,"  he  cried,  "it's  waiting  for  us." 

O'Neil  followed  into  Brennan 's  luxurious,  well-lit 
quarters,  where  on  a  mahogany  sideboard  was  a 
tray  holding  decanter,  siphon,  and  glasses,  together 
with  a  bottle  of  ginger  ale.  The  captain,  after  he 
had  mixed  a  beverage  for  his  passenger,  opened 
the  bottle  for  himself.  They  raised  their  glasses 
silently. 

"Now  that  you're  past  the  worst  of  it,"  remarked 

3 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

O'Neil,  "I  suppose  you'll  turn  in.  You're  getting 
old  for  a  hard  run  like  this,  Johnny." 

Captain  Brennan  snorted.  "Old?  I'm  a  better 
man  than  you,  yet.  I'm  a  teetotaler,  that's  why. 
I  discovered  long  ago  that  salt  water  and  whiskey 
don't  mix." 

O'Neil  stretched  himself  out  in  one  of  Brennan 's 
easy -chairs.  "Really,"  he  said,  "I  don't  under 
stand  why  a  ship  carries  a  captain.  Now  of  what 
earthly  use  to  the  line  are  you,  for  instance,  except 
for  your  beauty,  which,  no  doubt,  has  its  value  with 
the  women?  I'll  admit  you  preside  with  some 
grace  at  the  best  table  in  the  dining-salon,  but  your 
officers  know  these  channels  as  well  as  you  do. 
They  could  make  the  run  from  Seattle  to  Juneau 
with  their  eyes  shut." 

"Indeed  they  could  not;  and  neither  could  I." 

"Oh,  well,  of  course  I  have  no  respect  for  you  as 
a  man,  having  seen  you  without  your  uniform." 

The  captain  grinned  in  thorough  enjoyment  of 
this  raillery.  "I'll  say  nothing  at  all  of  my  seaman 
ship,"  he  said,  relapsing  into  the  faintest  of  brogues, 
"but  there's  no  denying  that  the  master  of  a  ship 
has  many  unpleasant  and  disgusting  duties  to  per 
form.  He  has  to  amuse  the  prominent  passengers 
who  can't  amuse  themselves,  for  one  thing,  and  that 
takes  tact  and  patience.  Why,  some  people  make 
themselves  at  home  on  the  bridge,  in  the  chart- 
room,  and  even  in  my  living-quarters,  to  say  noth 
ing  of  consuming  my  expensive  wines,  liquors,  and 
cigars." 

"Meaning  me?" 

"I'm  a  brutal  seafaring  man,  and  you'll  have  to 
make  allowances  for  my  well-known  brusqueness. 

4 


THE   TIDE   TAKES    A    HAND 

Maybe  I  did  mean  you.     But  I'll  say  that  next 
to  you  Curtis  Gordon  is  the  worst  grafter  I  ever 


saw." 


"You  don't  like  Gordon,  do  you?"  O'Neil  queried 
with  a  change  of  tone. 

"I  do  not !  He  went  up  with  me  again  this  spring, 
and  he  had  his  widow  with  him,  too." 

1  'His  widow?" 

"You  know  who  I  mean — Mrs.  Gerard.  They 
say  it's  her  money  he's  using  in  his  schemes.  Per 
haps  it's  because  of  her  that  I  don't  like  him." 

"Ah-h!     I  see." 

"You  don't  see,  or  you  wouldn't  grin  like  an  ape. 
I'm  a  married  man,  I'll  have  you  know,  and  I'm 
still  on  good  terms  with  Mrs.  Brennan,  thank  God. 
But  I  don't  like  men  who  use  women's  money,  and 
that's  just  what  our  friend  Gordon  is  doing.  What 
money  the  widow  didn't  put  up  he's  grabbed  from 
the  schoolma'ams  and  servant  -  girls  and  society 
matrons  in  the  East.  What  has  he  got  to  show  them 
for  it?" 

"A  railroad  project,  a  copper -mine,  some  coal 
claims — ' ' 

' '  Bah !     A  menagerie  of  wildcats !" 

"You  can't  prove  that.  What's  your  reason  for 
distrusting  him?" 

"Well,  for  one  thing,  he  knows  too  much.  Why, 
he  knows  everything,  he^does.  Art,  literature, 
politics,  law,  finance,  and  draw  poker  have  no 
secrets  from  him.  He's  been  everywhere — and  back 
—twice;  he  speaks  a  dozen  different  languages. 
He  out-argued  me  on  poultry-raising  and  I  know 
more  about  that  than  any  man  living.  He  can 
handle  a  drill  or  a  coach-and-f our ;  he  can  tell  all 

5 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

about  the  art  of  ancient  Babylon;  and  he  beat  me 
playing  cribbage,  which  shows  that  he  ain't  on  the 
level.  He's  the  best-informed  man  outside  of  a 
university,  and  he  drinks  tea  of  an  afternoon — with 
his  legs  crossed  and  the  saucer  balanced  on  his  heel. 
Now,  it  takes  years  of  hard  work  for  an  honest  man 
to  make  a  success  at  one  thing,  but  Gordon  never 
failed  at  anything.  I  ask  you  if  a  living  authority 
on  all  the  branches  of  human  endeavor  and  a  man 
who  can  beat  me  at  'crib'  doesn't  make  you 
suspicious." 

"Not  at  all.     I've  beaten  you  myself!" 

"I  was  sick,"  said  Captain  Brennan. 

"The  man  is  brilliant  and  well  educated  and 
wealthy.  It's  only  natural  that  he  should  excite 
the  jealousy  of  a  weaker  intellect." 

Johnny  opened  his  lips  for  an  explosion,  then 
changed  his  mind  and  agreed  sourly. 

"He's  got  money,  all  right,  and  he  knows  how  to 
spend  it.  He  and  his  valet  occupied  three  cabins 
on  this  ship.  They  say  his  quarters  at  Hope  are 
palatial." 

"My  dear  grampus,  the  mere  love  of  luxury 
doesn't  argue  that  a  person  is  dishonest." 

"Would  you  let  a  hired  man  help  you  on  with  your 
underclothes?"  demanded  the  mariner. 

"There's  nothing  criminal  about  it." 

"Humph!  Mrs.  Gerard  is  different.  She's  all 
class!  You  don't  mind  her  having  a  maid  and 
speaking  French  when  she  runs  short  of  English. 
Her  daughter  is  like  her." 

"I  haven't  seen  Miss  Gerard." 

"If  you'd  stir  about  the  ship  instead  of  wearing 
out  my  Morris  chair  you'd  have  that  pleasure.  She 

6 


THE   TIDE    TAKES    A   HAND 

was  on  deck  all  morning."  Captain  Brennan  fell 
silent  and  poked  with  a  stubby  forefinger  at  the  ice 
in  his  glass. 

"Well,  out  with  it!"  said  O'Neil  after  a  moment. 

"I'd  like  to  know  the  inside  story  of  Curtis  Gordon 
and  this  girl's  mother." 

"Why  bother  your  head  about  something  that 
doesn't  concern  you?"  The  speaker  rose  and  began 
to  pace  the  cabin  floor,  then,  in  an  altered  tone,  in 
quired,  "Tell  me,  are  you  going  to  land  me  and  my 
horses  at  Kyak  Bay?" 

"That  depends  on  the  weather.  It's  a  rotten 
harbor;  you'll  have  to  swim  them  ashore." 

"Suppose  it  should  be  rough?" 

"Then  we'll  go  on,  and  drop  you  there  coming 
back.  I  don't  want  to  be  caught  on  that  shore 
with  a  southerly  wind,  and  that's  the  way  it  usually 
blows." 

"I  can't  wait,"  O'Neil  declared.  "A  week's  delay 
might  ruin  me.  Rather  than  go  on  I'd  swim  ashore 
myself,  without  the  horses." 

"I  don't  make  the  weather  at  Kyak  Bay.  Satan 
himself  does  that.  Twenty  miles  offshore  it  may  be 
calm,  and  inside  it  may  be  blowing  a  gale.  That's 
due  to  the  glaciers.  Those  ice-fields  inland  and  the 
warm  air  from  the  Japanese  Current  offshore  kick 
up  some  funny  atmospheric  pranks.  It's  the  worst 
spot  on  the  coast  and  we'll  lose  a  ship  there  some 
day.  Why,  the  place  isn't  properly  charted,  let 
alone  buoyed." 

;< That's  nothing  unusual  for  this  coast." 

"True  for  you.  This  is  all  a  graveyard  of  ships 
and  there's  been  many  a  good  master's  license  lost 
because  of  half-baked  laws  from  Washington.  Think 

7 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

of  a  coast  like  this  with  almost  no  lights,  no  beacons 
nor  buoys;  and  yet  we're  supposed  to  make  time. 
It's  fine  in  clear  weather,  but  in  the  dark  we  go  by 
guess  and  by  God.  I've  stood  the  run  longer  than 
most  of  the  skippers,  but — " 

Even  as  Brennan  spoke  the  Nebraska  seemed  to 
halt,  to  jerk  backward  under  his  feet.  O'Neil,  who 
was  standing,  flung  out  an  arm  to  steady  himself ;  the 
empty  ginger-ale  bottle  fell  from  the  sideboard  with 
a  thump.  Loose  articles  hanging  against  the  side 
walls  swung  to  and  fro;  the  heavy  draperies  over 
Captain  Johnny's  bed  swayed. 

Brennan  leaped  from  his  chair;  his  ruddy  face 
was  mottled,  his  eyes  were  wide  and  horror- 
stricken. 

* '  Damnation !"  he  gasped.  The  cabin  door  crashed 
open  ahead  of  him  and  he  was  on  the  bridge,  with 
O'Neil  at  his  heels.  They  saw  the  first  officer  cling 
ing  limply  to  the  rail;  from  the  pilot-house  window 
came  an  excited  burst  of  Norwegian,  then  out  of  the 
door  rushed  a  quartermaster. 

Brennan  cursed,  and  met  the  fellow  with  a  blow 
which  drove  him  sprawling  back. 

"Get  in  there,  Swan,"  he  bellowed,  "and  take 
your  wheel." 

"The  tide  swung  her  in!"  exclaimed  the  mate. 
"The  tide—  My  God!" 

"Sweet  Queen  Anne!"  said  Brennan,  more  quietly. 
"You've  ripped  her  belly  out." 

"It — was  the  tide,"  chattered  the  officer. 

The  steady,  muffled  beating  of  the  machinery 
ceased,  the  ship  seemed  suddenly  to  lose  her  life,  but 
it  was  plain  that  she  was  not  aground,  for  she  kept 
moving  through  the  gloom.  From  down  forward 

8 


THE   TIDE   TAKES    A    HAND 

came  excited  voices  as  the  crew  poured  up  out  of  the 
forecastle. 

Brennan  leaped  to  the  telegraph  and  signaled 
the  engine-room.  He  was  calm  now,  and  his  voice 
was  sharp  and  steady. 

' '  Go  below,  Mr.  James,  and  find  the  extent  of  the 
damage,"  he  directed,  and  a  moment  later  the  hull 
began  to  throb  once  more  to  the  thrust  of  the 
propeller.  Inside  the  wheelhouse  Swan  had  re 
covered  from  his  panic  and  repeated  the  master's 
orders  mechanically. 

The  second  and  third  officers  arrived  upon  the 
bridge  now,  dressing  as  they  came,  and  they  were 
followed  by  the  chief  engineer.  To  them  Johnny 
spoke,  his  words  crackling  like  the  sparks  from  a 
wireless.  In  an  incredibly  short  time  he  had  the 
situation  in  hand  and  turned  to  O'Neil,  who  had 
been  a  silent  witness  of  the  scene. 

' '  Glory  be !' '  exclaimed  the  captain.  * '  Most  of  our 
good  passengers  are  asleep;  the  jar  would  scarcely 
wake  them." 

"Tell  me  where  and  how  I  can  help,"  Murray 
offered.  His  first  thought  had  been  of  the  possible 
effect  of  this  catastrophe  upon  his  plans,  for  time 
was  pressing.  As  for  danger,  he  had  looked  upon 
it  so  often  and  in  so  many  forms  that  it  had  little 
power  to  stir  him;  but  a  shipwreck,  which  would 
halt  his  northward  rush,  was  another  matter. 
Whether  the  ship  sank  or  floated  could  make  little 
difference,  now  that  the  damage  had  been  done. 
She  was  crippled  and  would  need  assistance.  His 
fellow-passengers,  he  knew,  were  safe  enough.  For 
tunately  there  were  not  many  of  them — a  scant  two 
hundred,  perhaps — and  if  worse  came  to  worst 
2  9 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

there  was  room  in  the  life-boats  for  all.  But  the 
Nebraska  had  no  watertight  bulkheads  and  the 
plight  of  his  twenty  horses  betweendecks  filled  him 
with  alarm  and  pity.  There  were  no  life-boats  for 
those  poor  dumb  animals  penned  down  yonder  in 
the  rushing  waters. 

Brennan  had  stepped  into  the  chart-room,  but 
returned  in  a  moment  to  say: 

"There's  no  place  to  beach  her  this  side  of  Halibut 
Bay." 

"How  far  is  that?" 

"Five  or  six  miles." 

"You'll— have  to  beach  her?" 

"I'm  afraid  so.     She  feels  queer." 

Up  from  the  cabin  deck  came  a  handful  of  men 
passengers  to  inquire  what  had  happened;  behind 
them  a  woman  began  calling  shrilly  for  her  husband. 

"We  touched  a  rock,"  the  skipper  explained, 
briefly.  '  *  Kindly  go  below  and  stop  that  squawking. 
There's  no  danger." 

There  followed  a  harrowing  wait  of  several  min 
utes;  then  James,  the  first  officer,  came  to  report. 
He  had  regained  his  nerve  and  spoke  with  swift 
precision. 

"She  loosened  three  plates  on  her  port  quarter 
and  she's  filling  fast." 

"How  long  will  she  last?"  snapped  Brennan. 

"Not  long,  sir.     Half  an  hour,  perhaps." 

The  captain  rang  for  full  speed,  and  the  decks 
began  to  strain  as  the  engine  increased  its  labor. 
"Get  your  passengers  out  and  stand  by  the  boats," 
he  ordered.  "Take  it  easy  and  don't  alarm  the 
women.  Have  them  dress  warmly,  and  don't  allow 
any  crowding  by  the  men.  Mr.  Tomlinson,  you 

10 


THE    TIDE    TAKES    A    HAND 

hold  the  steerage  gang  in  check.  Take  your  revolver 
with  you."  He  turned  to  his  silent  friend,  in  whose 
presence  he  seemed  to  feel  a  cheering  sympathy, 
"I  knew  it  would  come  sooner  or  later,  Murray," 
he  said.  "But — magnificent  mummies!  To  touch 
on  a  clear  night  with  the  sea  like  glass!"  He  sighed 
dolefully.  "It  '11  be  tough  on  my  missus." 

O' Neil  laid  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  "It  wasn't 
your  fault,  and  there  will  be  room  in  the  last  boat 
for  you.  Understand?"  Brennan  hesitated,  and  the 
other  continued,  roughly:  "No  nonsense,  now! 
Don't  make  a  damned  fool  of  yourself  by  sticking 
to  the  bridge.  Promise?" 

"I  promise." 

"Now  what  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

"Keep  those  dear  passengers  quiet.  I'll  run  for 
Halibut  Bay,  where  there's  a  sandy  beach.  If  she 
won't  make  it  I'll  turn  her  into  the  rocks  Tell 
'em  they  won't  wet  a  foot  if  they  keep  their 
heads." 

"Good!  I'll  be  back  to  see  that  you  behave 
yourself."  The  speaker  laughed  lightly  and  de 
scended  to  the  deck,  where  he  found  an  incipient 
panic.  Stewards  were  pounding  on  stateroom  doors, 
half -clad  men  were  rushing  about  aimlessly,  pallid 
faces  peered  forth  from  windows,  and  there  was  the 
sound  of  running  feet,  of  slamming  doors,  of  shrill, 
hysterical  voices. 

O'Neil  saw  a  waiter  thumping  lustily  upon  a  door 
and  heard  him  shout,  hoarsely : 

"Everybody  out!  The  ship  is  sinking!"  As  he 
turned  away  Murray  seized  him  roughly  by  the 
arm  and  thrusting  his  face  close  to  the  other's,  said, 
harshly : 

ii 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"If  you  yell  again  like  that  I'll  toss  you  over 
board." 

"God  help  us,  we're  going — " 

O'Neil  shook  the  fellow  until  his  teeth  rattled; 
his  own  countenance,  ordinarily  so  quiet,  was  blazing. 

"There's  no  danger.  Act  like  a  man  and  don't 
start  a  stampede.'* 

The  steward  pulled  himself  together  and  answered 
in  a  calmer  tone: 

"Very  well,  sir.     I — I'm  sorry,  sir." 

Murray  O'Neil  was  known  to  most  of  the  passen 
gers,  for  his  name  had  gone  up  and  down  the  coast, 
and  there  were  few  places  from  San  Francisco  to 
Nome  where  his  word  did  not  carry  weight.  As  he 
went  among  his  fellow-travelers  now,  smiling,  self- 
contained,  unruffled,  his  presence  had  its  effect. 
Women  ceased  their  shrilling,  men  stopped  their 
senseless  questions  and  listened  to  his  directions  with 
some  comprehension.  In  a  short  time  the  passen 
gers  were  marshaled  upon  the  upper  deck  where  the 
life-boats  hung  between  their  davits.  Each  little 
craft  was  in  charge  of  its  allotted  crew,  the  electric 
lights  continued  to  burn  brightly,  and  the  panic 
gradually  wore  itself  out.  Meanwhile  the  ship  was 
running  a  desperate  race  with  the  sea,  striving  with 
every  ounce  of  steam  in  her  boilers  to  find  a  safe 
berth  for  her  mutilated  body  before  the  inrush  of 
waters  drowned  her  fires.  That  the  race  was  close 
even  the  dullest  understood,  for  the  Nebraska  was 
settling  forward,  and  plowed  into  the  night  head 
down,  like  a  thing  maddened  with  pain.  She  was 
becoming  unmanageable,  too,  and  O'Neil  thought 
with  pity  of  that  little  iron-hearted  skipper  on  the 
bridge  who  was  fighting  her  so  furiously  0 

19 


THE   TIDE   TAKES   A  HAND 

There  was  little  confusion,  little  talking  upon  the 
upper  deck  now;  only  a  child  whimpered  or  a  woman 
sobbed  hysterically.  But  down  forward  among  the 
steerage  passengers  the  case  was  different.  These 
were  mainly  Montenegrins,  Polacks,  or  Slavs  bound 
for  the  construction  camps  to  the  westward,  and  they 
surged  from  side  to  side  like  cattle,  requiring  Tom- 
linson's  best  efforts  to  keep  them  from  rushing  aft. 

O'Neil  had  employed  thousands  of  such  men; 
in  fact,  many  of  these  very  fellows  had  cashed  his 
time-checks  and  knew  him  by  sight.  He  went  for 
ward  among  them,  and  his  appearance  proved  in 
stantly  reassuring.  He  found  his  two  hostlers,  and 
with  their  aid  he  soon  reduced  the  mob  to  compara 
tive  order. 

But  in  spite  of  his  confident  bearing  he  felt  a  great 
uneasiness.  The  Nebraska  seemed  upon  the  point 
of  diving;  he  judged  she  must  be  settling  very  fast, 
and  wondered  that  the  forward  tilt  did  not  lift  her 
propeller  out  of  the  water.  Fortunately,  however, 
the  surface  of  the  sound  was  like  a  polished  floor 
and  there  were  no  swells  to  submerge  her. 

Over-side  to  starboard  he  could  see  the  dim  black 
outlines  of  mountains  slipping  past,  but  where  lay 
Halibut  Bay  or  what  distance  remained  to  be  cov 
ered  he  could  but  vaguely  guess. 

In  these  circumstances  the  wait  became  almost 
unbearable.  The  race  seemed  hours  long,  the  miles 
stretched  into  leagues,  and  with  every  moment  of 
suspense  the  ship  sank  lower.  The  end  came  un 
expectedly.  There  was  a  sudden  startled  outcry  as 
the  Nebraska  struck  for  a  second  time  that  night. 
She  rose  slightly,  rolled  and  bumped,  grated  briefly, 
then  came  to  rest. 

13 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

Captain  Brennan  shouted  from  the  bridge: 

"Fill  your  life-boats,  Mr.  James,  and  lower  away 
carefully." 

A  cheer  rose  from  the  huddled  passengers. 

The  boiler-room  was  still  dry,  it  seemed,  for  the 
incandescent  lights  burned  without  a  flicker,  even 
after  the  grimy  oilers  and  stokers  had  come  pouring 
up  on  deck. 

O'Neil  climbed  to  the  bridge.  "Is  this  Halibut 
Bay?"  he  asked  Captain  Johnny. 

"It  is.  But  we're  piled  up  on  the  reef  outside. 
She  may  hold  fast — I  hope  so,  for  there's  deep  water 
astern,  and  if  she  slips  off  she'll  go  down." 

"I'd  like  to  save  my  horses, "said  the  younger  man, 
wistfully.  Through  all  the  strain  of  the  past  half- 
hour  or  more  his  uppermost  thought  had  been  for 
them.  But  Brennan  had  no  sympathy  for  such  senti 
ments. 

"Hell's  bells!"  he  exclaimed.  "Don't  talk  of 
horses  while  we've  got  women  and  children  aboard." 
He  hastened  away  to  assist  in  transferring  his  pas 
sengers. 

Instead  of  following,  O'Neil  turned  and  went 
below.  He  found  that  the  water  was  knee-deep  on 
the  port  side  of  the  deck  where  his  animals  were 
quartered,  which  showed  that  the  ship  had  listed 
heavily.  He  judged  that  she  must  be  much  deeper 
by  the  head  then  he  had  imagined,  and  that  her  nose 
was  crushed  in  among  the  rocks.  Until  she  settled  at 
the  stern,  therefore,  the  case  was  not  quite  hopeless. 

His  appearance,  the  sound  of  his  voice,  were  the 
signals  for  a  chorus  of  eager  whinnies  and  a  great 
stamping  of  hoofs.  Heads  were  thrust  toward  him 
from  the  stalls,  alert  ears  were  pricked  forward,  satin 

14 


THE    TIDE    TAKES    A    HAND 

muzzles  rubbed  against  him  as  he  calmed  their 
terror.  This  blind  trust  made  the  man's  throat 
tighten  achingly.  He  loved  animals  as  he  loved 
children,  and  above  all  he  cared  for  horses.  He  un 
derstood  them,  he  spoke  their  language  as  nearly  as 
any  human  can  be  said  to  do  so.  Quivering  muscles 
relaxed  beneath  his  soothing  palm ;  he  called  them  by 
name  and  they  answered  with  gentle  twitching  lips 
against  his  cheek.  Some  of  them  even  began  to  eat 
and  switch  their  tails  contentedly. 

He  cursed  aloud  and  made  his  way  down  the 
sloping  deck  to  the  square  iron  door,  or  port,  through 
which  he  had  loaded  them.  But  he  found  that  it 
was  jammed,  or  held  fast  by  the  pressure  outside, 
and  after  a  few  moments'  work  in  water  above  his 
knees  he  climbed  to  the  starboard  side.  Here  the 
entrance  was  obstructed  by  a  huge  pile  of  baled  hay 
and  grain  in  sacks.  It  would  be  no  easy  task  to 
clear  it  away,  and  he  fell  to  work  with  desperate 
energy,  for  the  ship  was  slowly  changing  her  level. 
Her  stern,  which  had  been  riding  high,  was  filling; 
the  sea  stole  in  upon  him  silently.  It  crept  up  toward 
him  until  the  horses,  stabled  on  the  lower  side, 
were  belly-deep  in  it.  Their  distress  communicated 
itself  to  the  others.  O'Neil  knew  that  his  position 
might  prove  perilous  if  the  hulk  should  slip  back 
ward  off  the  reef,  yet  he  continued  to  toil,  hurling 
heavy  sacks  behind  him,  bundling  awkward  bales 
out  of  the  way,  until  his  hands  were  bleeding  and  his 
muscles  ached.  He  was  perspiring  furiously;  the 
commotion  around  him  was  horrible.  Then  abruptly 
the  lights  went  out,  leaving  him  in  utter  blackness; 
the  last  fading  yellow  gleam  was  photographed  briefly 
upon  his  retina. 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

Tears  mingled  with  the  sweat  that  drained  down 
his  cheeks  as  he  felt  his  way  slowly  out  of  the  place, 
splashing,  stumbling,  groping  uncertainly.  A  horse 
screamed  in  a  loud,  horribly  human  note,  and  he 
shuddered.  He  was  sobbing  curses  as  he  emerged 
into  the  cool  open  air  on  the  forward  deck. 

His  eyes  were  accustomed  to  the  darkness  now, 
and  he  could  see  something  of  his  surroundings. 
He  noted  numerous  lights  out  on  the  placid  bosom 
of  the  bay,  evidently  lanterns  on  the  life-boats,  and 
he  heard  distant  voices.  He  swept  the  moisture  from 
his  face;  then  with  a  start  he  realized  his  situation. 
He  listened  intently;  his  eyes  roved  back  along  the 
boat-deck;  there  was  no  doubt  about  it — the  ship 
was  deserted.  Stepping  to  the  rail,  he  observed  how 
low  the  Nebraska  lay  and  also  that  her  bow  was 
higher  than  her  stern.  From  somewhere  beneath 
his  feet  came  a  muffled  grinding  and  a  movement 
which  told  him  that  the  ship  was  seeking  a  more 
comfortable  berth.  He  recalled  stories  of  explo 
sions  and  of  the  boiling  eddies  which  sometimes 
accompany  sinking  hulls.  Turning,  he  scrambled 
up  to  the  cabin  -  deck  and  ran  swiftly  toward  his 
stateroom. 


II 

HOW   A   GIRL  APPEARED   OUT   OF   THE    NIGHT 

O'NEIL  felt  for  the  little  bracket-lamp  on  the 
wall  of  his  stateroom  and  lit  it.  By  its  light 
he  dragged  a  life-preserver  from  the  rack  overhead 
and  slipped  the  tapes  about  his  shoulders,  reflecting 
that  Alaskan  waters  are  disagreeably  cold.  Then 
he  opened  his  traveling-bags  and  dumped  their  con 
tents  upon  the  white  counterpane  of  his  berth, 
selecting  out  of  the  confusion  certain  documents 
and  trinkets.  The  latter  he  thrust  into  his  pockets 
as  he  found  them,  the  former  he  wrapped  in  hand 
kerchiefs  before  stowing  them  away.  The  ship  had 
listed  now  so  that  it  was  difficult  to  maintain  a  foot 
ing;  the  lamp  hung  at  a  grotesque  angle  and  certain 
articles  had  become  dislodged  from  their  resting- 
places.  From  outside  came  the  gentle  lapping  of 
waters,  a  gurgling  and  hissing  as  of  air  escaping 
through  the  decks.  He  could  feel  the  ship  strain. 
He  acknowledged  that  it  was  not  pleasant  thus  to 
be  left  alone  on  a  sinking  hulk,  particularly  on  an 
ink-black  night — 

All  at  once  he  whirled  and  faced  the  door  with  an 
exclamation  of  astonishment,  for  a  voice  had  ad 
dressed  him. 

There,  -clinging  to  the  casing,  stood  a  woman — a 
girl — evidently  drawn  out  of  the  darkness  by  the 

17 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

light  which  streamed  down  across  the  sloping  deck 
from  his  stateroom.  Plainly  she  had  but  just 
awakened,  for  she  was  clothed  in  a  silken  nightrobe 
which  failed  to  conceal  the  outlines  of  her  body,  the 
swelling  contour  of  her  bosom,  the  ripened  fullness 
of  her  limbs.  She  had  flung  a  quilted  dressing-gown 
of  some  sort  over  her  shoulders  and  with  one  bare 
arm  and  hand  strove  to  hold  it  in  place.  He  saw 
that  her  pink  feet  were  thrust  into  soft,  heeless 
slippers — that  her  hair,  black  in  this  light,  cascaded 
down  to  her  waist,  and  that  her  eyes,  which  were 
very  dark  and  very  large,  were  fixed  upon  him  with 
a  stare  like  that  of  a  sleep-walker. 

"It  is  so  dark — so  strange — so  still!"  she  mur 
mured.  "What  has  happened?" 

"God!  Didn't  they  waken  you?"  he  cried  in 
sharp  surprise. 

"Is  the  ship — sinking?"  Her  odd  bewilderment 
of  voice  and  gaze  puzzled  him. 

He  nodded.  "We  struck  a  rock.  The  passengers 
have  been  taken  off.  We're  the  only  ones  left. 
In  Heaven's  name  where  have  you  been?" 

"I  was  asleep." 

He  shook  his  head  in  astonishment.  "How  you 
failed  to  hear  that  hubbub — " 

"I  heard  something,  but  I  was  ill.  My  head — 
I  took  something  to  ease  the  pain." 

"Ah!  Medicine!  It  hasn't  worn  off  yet,  I  see! 
You  shouldn't  have  taken  it.  Drugs  are  nothing 
but  poison  to  young  people.  Now  at  my  age  there 
might  be  some  excuse  for  resorting  to  them,  but 
you — "  He  was  talking  to  cover  the  panic  of  his 
thoughts,  for  his  own  predicament  had  been  serious 
enough,  and  her  presence  rendered  it  doubly  em- 

18 


A   GIRL   OUT   OF   THE   NIGHT 

barrassing.  What  in  the  world  to  do  with  her  he 
scarcely  knew.  His  lips  were  smiling,  but  his  eyes 
were  grave  as  they  roved  over  the  cabin  and  out  into 
the  blackness  of  the  night. 

"Are  we  going  to  drown?"  she  asked,  dully. 

* '  Nonsense !"  He  laughed  in  apparent  amusement , 
showing  his  large,  strong  teeth. 

She  came  closer,  glancing  behind  her  and  shrinking 
from  the  oily  waters  which  could  be  seen  over  the 
rail  and  which  had  stolen  up  nearly  to  the  sill  of  the 
door.  She  steadied  herself  by  laying  hold  of  him 
uncertainly.  Involuntarily  he  turned  his  eyes  away, 
for  he  felt  shame  at  profaning  her  with  his  gaze.  She 
was  very  soft  and  white,  a  fragile  thing  utterly  unfit 
to  cope  with  the  night  air  and  the  freezing  waters  of 
Halibut  Bay. 

''I'm  wretchedly  afraid!"  she  whispered  through 
white  lips. 

"None  of  that!"  he  said,  brusquely.  "I'll  see  that 
nothing  happens  to  you."  He  slipped  out  of  his  life- 
preserver  and  adjusted  it  over  her  shoulders,  first 
drawing  her  arms  through  the  sleeves  of  her 
dressing-gown  and  knotting  the  cord  snugly  around 
her  waist.  "Just  as  a  matter  of  precaution!" 
he  assured  her.  "We  may  get  wet.  Can  you 
swim?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

' '  Never  mind ;  I  can. ' '  He  found  another  life-belt , 
fitted  it  to  his  own  form,  and  led  her  out  upon  the 
deck.  The  scuppers  were  awash  now  and  she  gasped 
as  the  sea  licked  her  bare  feet.  "Cold,  isn't  it?"  he 
remarked.  "But  there's  no  time  to  dress,  and  it's 
just  as  well,  perhaps,  for  heavy  clothes  would  only 
hamper  you." 

19 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

She  strove  to  avoid  the  icy  waters  and  finally 
paused,  moaning:  "I  can't!  I  can't  go  on!" 

Slipping  his  arm  about  her,  he  bore  her  to  the  door 
of  the  main  cabin  and  entered.  He  could  feel  her 
warm,  soft  body  quivering  against  his  own.  She 
had  clasped  his  neck  so  tightly  that  he  could  scarcely 
breathe,  but,  lowering  her  until  her  feet  were  on  the 
dry  carpet,  he  gently  loosed  her  arms. 

"Now,  my  dear  child,"  he  told  her,  "you  must  do 
exactly  as  I  tell  you.  Come!  Calm  yourself  or  I 
won't  take  you  any  farther."  He  held  her  off  by  her 
shoulders.  "I  may  have  to  swim  with  you;  you 
mustn't  cling  to  me  so!" 

He  heard  her  gasp  and  felt  her  draw  away  abruptly. 
Then  he  led  her  by  the  hand  out  upon  the  starboard 
deck,  and  together  they  made  their  way  forward  to 
the  neighborhood  of  the  bridge. 

The  lights  he  had  seen  upon  coming  from  the 
forward  hold  were  still  in  view  and  he  hailed  them 
at  the  top  of  his  voice.  But  other  voices  were  call 
ing  through  the  night,  some  of  them  comparatively 
close  at  hand,  others  answering  faintly  from  far  in 
shore.  The  boats  first  launched  were  evidently  land 
ing,  and  those  in  charge  of  them  were  shouting 
directions  to  the  ones  behind.  Some  women  had 
started  singing  and  the  chorus  floated  out  to  the  man 
and  the  girl: 

Pull  for  the  shore,  sailor, 
Pull  for  the  shore. 

It  helped  to  drown  their  cries  for  assistance. 

O'Neil  judged  that  the  ship  was  at  least  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  the  beach,  and  his  heart  sank,  for  he 
doubted  that  either  he  or  his  companion  could  last 

20 


A    GIRL    OUT    OF    THE    NIGHT 

long  in  these  waters.  It  occurred  to  him  that 
Brennan  might  be  close  by,  waiting  for  the  Nebraska 
to  sink — it  would  be  unlike  the  little  captain  to  for 
sake  his  trust  until  the  last  possible  moment — but  he 
reasoned  that  the  cargo  of  lives  in  the  skipper's  boat 
would  induce  him  to  stand  well  off  to  avoid  accident. 
He  called  lustily  time  after  time,  but  no  answer  came. 

Meanwhile  the  girl  stood  quietly  beside  him. 

" Can't  we  make  a  raft?"  she  suggested,  timidly, 
when  he  ceased  to  shout.  "I've  read  of  such 
things." 

"There's  no  time,"  he  told  her.  "Are  you  very 
cold?" 

She  nodded.  "Please  forgive  me  for  acting  so 
badly  just  now.  It  was  all  so  sudden  and — so  awful ! 
I  think  I  can  behave  better.  Oh !  What  was  that  ?" 
She  clutched  him  nervously,  for  from  the  forward  end 
of  the  ship  had  come  a  muffled  scream,  like  that  of  a 
woman. 

"It's  my  poor  horses,"  said  the  man,  and  she 
looked  at  him  curiously,  prompted  by  the  catch  in 
his  throat. 

There  followed  a  wait  which  seemed  long,  but  was 
in  reality  of  but  a  few  minutes,  for  the  ship  was  slid 
ing  backward  and  the  sea  was  creeping  upward 
faster  and  faster.  At  last  they  heard  a  shuddering 
sigh  as  she  parted  from  the  rocks  and  the  air  rushed 
up  through  the  deck  openings  with  greater  force. 
The  Nebraska  swung  sluggishly  with  the  tide;  then, 
when  her  upper  structure  had  settled  flush  with  the 
sea,  Murray  O'Neil  took  the  woman  in  his  arms  and 
leaped  clear  of  the  rail. 

The  first  gasping  moment  of  immersion  was  fairly 
paralyzing;  after  that  the  reaction  came,  and  the 

SI 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

two  began  to  struggle  away  from  the  sinking  shipo 
But  the  effect  of  the  reaction  soon  wore  off.  The 
water  was  cruelly  cold  and  their  bodies  ached  in 
every  nerve  and  fiber.  O'Neil  did  his  best  to  en 
courage  his  companion.  He  talked  to  her  through  his 
chattering  teeth,  and  once  she  had  recovered  from  the 
mental  shock  of  the  first  fearful  plunge  she  responded 
pluckily.  He  knew  that  his  own  heart  was  normal 
and  strong,  but  he  feared  that  the  girl's  might  not  be 
equal  to  the  strain.  Had  he  been  alone,  he  felt  sure 
that  he  could  have  gained  the  shore,  but  with  her 
upon  his  hands  he  was  able  to  make  but  little  head 
way.  The  expanse  of  waters  seemed  immense;  it 
fairly  crushed  hope  out  of  him.  The  lights  upon 
the  shore  were  as  distant  as  fixed  stars.  This  was  a 
country  of  heavy  tides,  he  reflected,  and  he  began  to 
fear  that  the  current  was  sweeping  them  out.  He 
turned  to  look  for  the  ship,  but  could  see  no  traces  of 
her,  and  since  it  was  inconceivable  that  the  Nebraska 
could  have  sunk  so  quietly,  her  disappearance  con 
firmed  his  fears.  More  than  once  he  fancied  he 
heard  an  answer  to  his  cries  for  help — the  rattle  of 
rowlocks  or  the  splash  of  oars — but  his  ears  proved 
unreliable. 

After  a  time  the  girl  began  to  moan  with  pain  and 
terror,  but  as  numbness  gradually  robbed  her  of 
sensation  she  became  quiet.  A  little  later  her  grip 
upon  his  clothing  relaxed  and  he  saw  that  she  was 
collapsing.  He  drew  her  to  him  and  held  her  so 
that  her  face  lay  upturned  and  her  hair  floated 
about  his  shoulders.  In  this  position  she  could  not 
drown,  at  least  while  his  strength  lasted.  But  he 
was  rapidly  losing  control  of  himself;  his  teeth  were 
clicking  loosely,  his  muscles  shook  and  twitched 


A    GIRL   OUT   OF   THE    NIGHT 

It  required  a  great  effort  to  shout,  and  he  thought 
that  his  voice  did  not  carry  so  far  as  at  first.  There 
fore  he  fell  silent,  paddling  with  his  free  arm  and 
kicking,  to  keep  his  blood  stirring. 

Several  times  he  gave  up  and  floated  quietly,  but 
courage  was  ingrained  in  him;  deep  down  beneath 
his  consciousness  was  a  vitality,  an  inherited  stub 
born  resistance  to  death,  of  which  he  knew  nothing. 
It  was  that  unidentified  quality  of  mind  which  sup 
ports  one  man  through  a  great  sickness  or  a  long 
period  of  privation,  while  another  of  more  robust 
physique  succumbs.  It  was  the  same  quality  which 
brings  one  man  out  from  desert  wastes,  or  the  white 
silence  of  the  polar  ice,  while  the  bodies  of  his  fellows 
remain  to  mark  the  trail.  This  innate  power  of 
supreme  resistance  is  found  in  chosen  individuals 
throughout  the  animal  kingdom,  and  it  was  due 
to  it  alone  that  Murray  O'Neil  continued  to  fight 
the  tide  long  after  he  had  ceased  to  exert  conscious 
control. 

At  length  there  came  through  the  man's  dazed 
sensibilities  a  sound  different  from  those  he  had  been 
hearing:  it  was  a  human  voice,  mingled  with  the 
measured  thud  of  oars  in  their  sockets.  It  roused 
him  like  an  electric  current  and  gave  him  strength 
to  cry  out  hoarsely.  Some  one  answered  him;  then 
out  of  the  darkness  to  seaward  emerged  a  deeper 
blot,  which  loomed  up  hugely  yet  proved  to  be 
no  more  than  a  life-boat  banked  full  of  people.  It 
came  to  a  stop  within  an  oar's-length  of  him.  From 
the  babble  of  voices  he  distinguished  one  that  was 
familiar,  and  cried  the  name  of  Johnny  Brennan. 
His  brain  had  cleared  now,  a  great  dreamlike  sense 
of  thanksgiving  warmed  him,  and  he  felt  equal  to 

23 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

any  effort.  He  was  vaguely  amazed  to  find  that 
his  limbs  refused  to  obey  him. 

His  own  name  was  being  pronounced  in  shocked 
tones;  the  splash  from  an  oar  filled  his  face  and 
strangled  him,  but  he  managed  to  lay  hold  of  the 
blade,  and  was  drawn  in  until  outstretched  hands 
seized  him. 

An  oarsman  was  saying:  "Be  careful,  there!  We 
can't  take  him  in  without  swamping." 

But  Brennan's  voice  shouted:  "Make  room  or 
I'll  bash  in  your  bloody  skull." 

Another  protest  arose,  and  O'Neil  saw  that  the 
craft  was  indeed  loaded  to  the  gunwales. 

"Take  the  girl— quick,"  he  implored.  'Til  hang 
on.  You  can — tow  me." 

The  limp  form  was  removed  from  his  side  and 
dragged  over  the  thwarts  while  a  murmur  of  excited 
voices  went  up. 

"Can  you  hold  out  for  a  minute,  Murray?"  asked 
Brennan. 

"Yes— I  think  so." 

"I'd  give  you  my  place,  but  you're  too  big  to  be 
taken  in  without  danger." 

"Go  ahead,"  chattered  the  man  in  the  water. 
"Look  after  the  girl  before  it's — too  late." 

The  captain's  stout  hand  was  in  his  collar  now 
and  he  heard  him  crying: 

"Pull,  you  muscle-bound  heathens!  Everybody 
sit  still!  Now  away  with  her,  men.  Keep  up  your 
heart,  Murray,  my  boy;  remember  it  takes  more 
than  water  to  kill  a  good  Irishman.  It's  only  a  foot 
or  two  farther,  and  they've  started  a  fire.  Serves 
you  right,  you  big  idiot,  for  going  overboard,  with 
all  those  boats,  Man  dear,  but  you're  pulling  the 

24 


A    GIRL   OUT   OF   THE    NIGHT 

arm  out  of  me;  it's  stretched  out  like  a  garden  hose! 
Hey!  Cover  up  that  girl,  and  you,  lady,  rub  her 
feet  and  hands.  Good!  Move  over  please — so  the 
men  can  bail." 

The  next  O'Neil  knew  he  was  feeling  very  miser 
able  and  very  cold,,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he 
was  wrapped  in  dry  clothing  and  lay  so  close  to  a 
roaring  spruce  fire  that  its  heat  blistered  him. 

Brennan  was  bending  over  him  with  eyes  wet. 
He  was  swearing,  too,  in  a  weak,  faltering  way, 
calling  upon  all  the  saints  to  witness  that  the  pros 
trate  man  was  the  embodiment  of  every  virtue,  and 
that  his  death  would  be  a  national  calamity.  Others 
were  gathered  about,  men  and  women,  and  among 
them  O'Neil  saw  the  doctor  from  Sitka  whom  he  had 
met  on  shipboard. 

As  soon  as  he  was  able  to  speak  he  inquired  for  the 
safety  of  the  girl  he  had  helped  to  rescue.  Johnny 
promptly  reassured  him. 

"Man,  dear,  she's  doing  fine.  A  jigger  of  brandy 
brought  her  to,  gasping  like  a  blessed  mermaid." 

"Was  anybody  lost?" 

"Praise  God,  not  a  soul!  But  it's  lucky  I  stood 
by  to  watch  the  old  tub  go  down,  or  we'd  be  mourn 
ing  two.  You'll  be  well  by  morning,  for  there's  a 
cannery  in  the  next  inlet  and  I've  sent  a  boat's 
crew  for  help.  And  now,  my  boy,  lay  yourself 
down  again  and  take  a  sleep,  won't  you?  It  '11  be 
doing  you  a  lot  of  good." 

But  O'Neil  shook  his  head  and  struggled  to  a 
sitting  posture. 

"Thanks,    Johnny,"    said   he,    "but    I    couldn't. 
I  can  hear  those  horses  screaming,  and  besides — I 
must  make  new  plans." 
n  25- 


Ill 

THE    IRISH   PRINCE 

AS  dawn  broke  the  cannery  tender  from  the  sta- 
^\  tion  near  by  nosed  her  way  up  to  the  gravelly 
shore  where  the  castaways  were  gathered  and  blew 
a  cheering  toot-toot  on  her  whistle.  She  was  a  flat- 
bottomed,  "wet-sterned"  craft,  and  the  passengers 
of  the  Nebraska  trooped  to  her  deck  over  a  gang 
plank.  As  Captain  Brennan  had  predicted,  not  one 
of  them  had  wet  a  foot,  with  the  exception  of  the 
two  who  had  been  left  aboard  through  their  own 
carelessness. 

By  daylight  Halibut  Bay  appeard  an  idyllic  spot, 
quite  innocent  of  the  terrors  with  which  the  night  had 
endowed  it.  A  pebbled  half -moon  of  beach  was  set 
in  among  rugged  bluffs ;  the  verdant  forest  crowded 
down  to  it  from  behind.  Tiny  crystal  wavelets 
lapped  along  the  shingle,  swaying  the  brilliant  sea 
mosses  which  clung  to  the  larger  rocks.  Altogether 
the  scene  gave  a  strong  impression  of  peace  and  se 
curity,  yet  just  in  the  offing  was  one  jarring  contrast 
—the  masts  and  funnel  of  the  Nebraska  slanting  up 
out  of  the  blue  serenity,  where  she  lay  upon  the  slop 
ing  bottom  in  the  edge  of  deep  water. 

The  reaction  following  a  sleepless  night  of  anxiety 
had  replaced  the  first  feeling  of  thankfulness  at  de- 
,  and  it  was  not  a  happy  cargo  of  humanity 
26 


THE    IRISH    PRINCE 

the  rescuing  boat  bore  with  her  as  the  SUB 
peeped  over  the  hills.  Many  of  the  passengers  were 
but  half  dressed,  all  were  exhausted  and  hungry,  each 
one  had  lost  something  in  the  catastrophe.  The  men 
were  silent,  the  women  hysterical,  the  children  fretful, 

Murray  O'Neil  had  recovered  sufficiently  to  go 
among  them  with  the  same  warm  smile  which  had 
made  him  friends  from  the  first.  In  the  depths  of 
his  cool  gray  eyes  was  a  sparkle  which  showed  his 
unquenchable  Celtic  spirit,  and  before  long  smiles 
answered  his  smiles,  jokes  rose  to  meet  his  pleasant 
ries. 

It  was  his  turn  now  to  comfort  Captain  Johnny 
Brennan,  who  had  yielded  to  the  blackest  despair, 
once  his  responsibility  was  over. 

"She  was  a  fine  ship,  Murray,"  the  master  la 
mented,  staring  with  tragic  eyes  at  the  Nebraska's 
spars. 

"She  was  a  tin  wash  tub,  and  rusted  like  a  sieve," 
jeered  O'Neil. 

"But  think  of  me  losing  her  on  a  still  night!" 

"I'm  not  sure  yet  that  it  wasn't  a  jellyfish  that 
swam  through  her." 

1 '  Humph !  I  suppose  her  cargo  will  be  a  total  loss. 
Two  hundred  thousand  dollars — " 

"Insured  for  three  hundred,  no  doubt.  I'll  war 
rant  the  company  will  thank  you." 

"It's  kind  of  you  to  cheer  me  up,"  said  Brennan, 
a  little  less  gloomily,  "especially  after  the  way  I 
abandoned  you  to  drown,  but  the  missus  won't  allow 
me  in  the  house  at  all  when  she  hears  I  left  you  in 
pickle.  Thank  God  the  girl  didn't  die,  anyway! 
I've  got  that  to  be  thankful  for.  Curtis  Gordon 
would  have  broken  me — " 

37 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

'  'Gordon?" 

"Sure!  Man  dear,  don't  you  know  who  you 
went  bathing  with  ?  She's  the  daughter  of  that  widow 
Gerard,  and  the  most  prominent  passenger  aboard, 
outside  of  your  blessed  self.  Ain't  that  luck !  If  I  was 
a  Jap  I'd  split  myself  open  with  a  bread-knife." 

"But,  fortunately,  you're  a  sensible  'harp'  of  old 
Ireland.  I'll  see  that  the  papers  get  the  right  story, 
so  buck  up." 

"Do  you  think  for  a  minute  that  Mrs.  Brennan 
will  understand  why  I  didn't  hop  out  of  the  life 
boat  and  give  you  my  place?  Not  at  all.  I'm 
ruined  nautically  and  domestically.  In  the  course 
of  the  next  ten  years  I  may  live  it  down,  but  mean 
while  I'll  sleep  in  the  woodshed  and  speak  when  I'm 
spoken  to." 

Murray  knew  that  Miss  Gerard  had  been  badly 
shaken  by  her  ordeal,  hence  he  made  no  attempt  to 
see  her  even  after  the  steamer  had  reached  the 
fishing- village  and  the  rescued  passengers  had  been 
taken  in  by  the  residents.  Instead,  he  went  directly 
to  the  one  store  in  the  place  and  bought  its  entire 
stock,  which  he  turned  over  to  the  sufferers.  It  was 
well  he  did  so,  for  the  village  was  small  and,  although 
the  townspeople  were  hospitable,  both  food  and  cloth 
ing  were  scarce. 

A  south-bound  steamer  was  due  the  next  afternoon, 
it  was  learned,  and  plans  were  made  for  her  to  pick 
up  the  castaways  and  return  them  to  Seattle.  At  the 
same  time  O'Neil  discovered  that  a  freighter  for  the 
"westward"  was  expected  some  time  that  night,  and 
as  she  did  not  call  at  this  port  he  arranged  for  a 
launch  to  take  him  out  to  the  channel  where  he  could 
intercept  her.  The  loss  of  his  horses  had  been  a 

28 


THE    IRISH    PRINCE 

serious  blow.  It  was  all  the  more  imperative  now 
that  he  should  go  on,  since  he  would  have  to  hire  men 
to  do  horses'  work. 

During  the  afternoon  Miss  Gerard  sent  for  him 
and  he  went  to  the  house  of  the  cannery  superin 
tendent,  where  she  had  been  received.  The  superin 
tendent's  wife  had  clothed  her,  and  she  seemed  to 
have  recovered  her  poise  of  body  and  mind.  O'Neil 
was  surprised  to  find  her  quite  a  different  person 
from  the  frightened  and  disheveled  girl  he  had  seen 
in  the  yellow  lamplight  of  his  stateroom  on  the 
night  before.  She  was  as  pale  now  as  then,  but  her 
expression  of  terror  and  bewilderment  had  given 
place  to  one  of  reposeful  confidence.  Her  lips  were 
red  and  ripe  and  of  a  somewhat  haughty  turn.  She 
was  attractive,  certainly,  despite  the  disadvantage 
of  the  borrowed  garments,  and  though  she  struck 
him  as  being  possibly  a  little  proud  and  cold,  there 
was  no  lack  of  warmth  in  her  greeting. 

For  her  part  she  beheld  a  man  of  perhaps  forty, 
of  commanding  height  and  heavy  build.  He  was 
gray  about  the  temples;  his  eyes  were  gray,  too,  and 
rather  small,  but  they  were  extremely  animated  and 
kindly,  and  a  myriad  of  little  lines  were  penciled 
about  their  corners.  These  were  evidently  marks 
of  expression,  not  of  age,  and  although  the  rugged 
face  itself  was  not  handsome,  it  had  a  degree  of  char 
acter  that  compelled  her  interest.  His  clothes  were 
good,  and  in  spite  of  their  recent  hard  usage  they 
still  lent  him  the  appearance  of  a  man  habitually 
well  dressed. 

She  was  vaguely  disappointed,  having  pictured 
him  as  being  in  the  first  flush  of  vigorous  youth,  but 
the  feeling  soon  disappeared  under  the  charm  of 

29 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

his  manner.  The  ideal  figure  she  had  imagined 
began  to  seem  silly  and  school-girlish,  unworthy  of 
the  man  himself.  She  was  pleased,  too,  by  his 
faint  though  manifest  embarrassment  at  her  thanks, 
for  she  had  feared  a  lack  of  tact. 

Above  all  things  she  abhorred  obligation  of  any 
sort,  and  she  was  inclined  to  resent  masculine  pro 
tection.  This  man's  service  filled  her  with  real 
gratitude,  yet  she  rebelled  at  the  position  in  which 
it  placed  her.  She  preferred  granting  favors  to 
receiving  them. 

But  in  fact  he  dismissed  the  whole  subject  so 
brusquely  that  he  almost  offended  her,  and  when 
she  realized  how  incomplete  had  been  her  acknowl 
edgment,  she  said,  with  an  air  of  pique: 

"You  might  have  given  me  a  chance  to  thank 
you  without  dragging  you  here  against  your  will." 

"I'm  sorry  if  I  seemed  neglectful." 

She  fell  silent  for  a  moment  before  asking: 

"Do  you  detest  me  for  my  cowardice?  I  couldn't 
blame  you  for  never  wanting  to  see  me  again." 

"You  were  very  brave.  You  were  splendid,"  he 
declared.  "I  simply  didn't  wish  to  intrude." 

"I  was  terribly  frightened,"  she  confided,  "but 
I  felt  that  I  could  rely  upon  you.  That's  what 
every  one  does,  isn't  it?  You  see,  you  have  a  repu 
tation.  They  told  me  how  you  refused  to  be  taken 
into  the  boat  for  fear  of  capsizing  it.  That  was 
fine." 

"Oh,  there  was  nothing  brave  about  that.  I 
wanted  to  get  in  badly  enough,  but  there  wasn't 
room.  Jove!  It  was  cold,  wasn't  it?"  His  ready 
smile  played  whimsically  about  his  lips,  and  the 
girl  felt  herself  curiously  drawn  to  him.  Since  he 

30 


THE   IRISH    PRINCE 

chose  to  make  light  of  himself,  she  determined  to 
allow  nothing  of  the  sort. 

"They  have  told  me  how  you  bought  out  this 
whole  funny  little  place,"  she  said,  "and  turned  it 
over  to  us.  Is  it  because  you  have  such  a  royal 
way  of  dispensing  favors  that  they  call  you  'The 
Irish  Prince'?" 

"That's  only  a  silly  nickname." 

"I  don't  think  so.  You  give  people  food  and 
clothes  with  a  careless  wave  of  the  hand;  you  give 
me  my  life  with  a  shrug  and  a  smile;  you  offer  to 
give  up  your  own  to  a  boatful  of  strangers  without 
a  moment's  hesitation.  I — I  think  you  are  a  re 
markable  person." 

"You'll  turn  my  head  with  such  flattery  if  you 
aren't  careful,"  he  said  with  a  slight  flush.  "Please 
talk  of  something  sensible  now,  for  an  antidote — 
your  plans,  for  instance." 

"My  plans  are  never  sensible,  and  what  few  I 
have  are  as  empty  as  my  pockets.  To  tell  the  truth, 
I  have  neither  plans  nor  pockets,"  she  laughed, 
"since  this  is  a  borrowed  gown." 

1 '  Pockets  in  gowns  are  entirely  matters  of  hearsay, 
anyhow;  I  doubt  if  they  exist.  You  are  going  back 
to  Seattle?" 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so.  It  seems  to  be  my  fate,  but 
I'm  not  a  bit  resigned.  I'm  one  of  those  unfortunate 
people  who  can't  bear  to  be  disappointed." 

"You  can  return  on  the  next  ship,  at  the  company's 
expense." 

"No.  Mother  would  never  allow  it.  In  fact, 
when  she  learns  that  I'm  out  here  she'll  probably 
send  me  back  to  New  York  as  fast  as  I  can  go." 

"Doesn't  she  know  where  you  are?" 

31 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"Indeed  no!  She  thinks  I'm  safely  and  tamely 
at  home.  Uncle  Curtis  wouldn't  object  to  my 
visit,  I  fancy;  at  any  rate,  I've  been  counting  on 
his  good  offices  with  mother,  but  it's  too  late 
now." 

"I'm  like  you,"  he  said;  "I  can't  brook  disappoint 
ment.  I'm  going  on." 

In  answer  to  her  questioning  look  he  explained 
his  plan  of  intercepting  the  freight  -  steamer  that 
night,  whereupon  her  face  brightened  with  sudden 
hope. 

"Can't  I  go,  too?"  she  implored,  eagerly.  She 
was  no  longer  the  haughty  young  lady  he  had  met 
upon  entering  the  room,  but  a  very  wistful  child. 

"I'm  afraid  that's  hardly—" 

"Oh!  If  only  you  knew  how  much  it  means! 
If  only  you  knew  how  badly  I  want  to!  I'm  not 
afraid  of  discomforts." 

"It 'snot  that—" 

"Please!  Please!  Be  a  real  prince  and  grant  me 
this  boon.  Won't  you?  My  heart  is  set  upon  it." 

It  was  hard  to  resist  her  imploring  eyes — eyes 
which  showed  they  had  never  been  denied.  It 
was  hard  for  O'Neil  to  refuse  anything  to  a  woman. 

"If  your  uncle  is  willing,"  he  began,  hesitatingly. 

"He  isn't  my  really  uncle — I  just  call  him  that." 

"Well,  if  Mr.  Gordon  wouldn't  object,  perhaps  I 
can  manage  it,  provided,  of  course,  you  promise  to 
explain  to  your  mother." 

Miss  Gerard's  frank  delight  showed  that  she  was 
indeed  no  more  than  a  child.  Her  changed  de 
meanor  awakened  a  doubt  in  the  man's  mind. 

"It  will  mean  that  you'll  have  to  sit  up  all  nigh-c 
in  an  open  launch,"  he  cautioned  her. 

32 


THE    IRISH    PRINCE 

'Til  sit  up  for  a  week." 

"With  the  creepy  water  all  about,  and  big  black 
mountains  frowning  at  you!" 

"Oh,  fiddle!"  she  exclaimed.  "You'll  be  there 
if  I  get  frightened."  Rising  impulsively  she  laid  her 
hand  on  his  arm  and  thanked  him  with  an  odd  min 
gling  of  frankness  and  shyness,  as  if  there  could  be 
no  further  doubt  of  his  acquiescence.  He  saw  that 
her  eyes  were  the  color  of  shaded  woodland  springs 
and  that  her  hair  was  not  black,  but  of  a  deep,  rich 
brown  where  the  sun  played  upon  it,  the  hue  of  very 
old  mahogany,  with  the  same  blood-red  flame  run 
ning  through  it.  He  allowed  himself  to  admire  her 
in  silence,  until  suddenly  she  drew  back  with  a 
startled  exclamation. 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  forgot — I  have  no  clothes."  Her  words  came 
with  a  doleful  cadence. 

"The  universal  complaint  of  your  sex,"  he  said, 
smiling.  "Allow  me  to  talk  with  your  hostess. 
I'm  sure  she  will  let  you  walk  out  with  your  bor 
rowed  finery,  just  like  Cinderella.  You'll  need  a 
nice  thick  coat,  too." 

"But  this  is  her  very,  very  best  dress." 

"She  shall  receive,  on  the  next  ship,  a  big  box  all 
lined  with  tissue-paper,  with  the  imprint  of  the  most 
fashionable  dressmaker  in  Seattle.  I'll  arrange  all 
that  by  cable." 

"You  don't  know  how  she  loves  it,"  the  girl  said, 
doubtfully. 

"Come!  Call  her  in.  If  I'm  to  be  a  prince  you 
mustn't  doubt  my  power." 

Nor  did  the  event  prove  him  over  -  confident. 
Before  he  had  fairly  made  known  his  request  the 

33 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

good  lady  of  the  house  was  ready  to  surrender  not 
only  her  best  Sunday  gown,  but  her  fluttering  heart 
as  well.  Murray  O'Neil  had  a  way  of  making  people 
do  what  he  wanted,  and  women  invariably  yielded 
to  him. 


IV 

HOW   A  JOURNEY   ENDED   AT   HOPE 

TO  Natalie  Gerard  the  trip  down  the  bay  and 
into  the  sound  that  night  was  a  wonderful 
adventure.  She  remembered  it  afterward  far  more 
vividly  than  the  shipwreck,  which  became  blurred 
in  retrospect,  so  that  she  soon  began  to  think  of  it  as 
of  some  half-forgotten  nightmare.  To  begin  with, 
the  personality  of  Murray  O'Neil  intrigued  her  more 
and  more.  The  man  was  so  strong,  so  sympathetic, 
and  he  had  such  a  resistless  way  of  doing  things. 
The  stories  she  had  heard  of  him  were  romantic, 
and  the  superintendent's  wife  had  not  allowed  them 
to  suffer  in  the  telling.  Natalie  felt  elated  that  such 
a  remarkable  person  should  exert  himself  on  her 
behalf.  And  the  journey  itself  impressed  her  imag 
ination  deeply. 

Although  it  was  nine  o'clock  when  they  boarded 
the  launch,  it  was  still  light.  The  evening  was  yellow 
with  the  peculiar  diffused  radiance  of  high  latitudes, 
lending  a  certain  somberness  to  their  surroundings. 

The  rushing  tide,  the  ragged  rock-teeth  which 
showed  through  it,  the  trackless,  unending  forests 
that  clothed  the  hills  in  every  direction,  awed  her 
a  little,  yet  gave  her  an  unaccustomed  feeling  of 
freedom  and  contentment.  The  long  wait  out  be 
tween  the  lonely  islands,  where  the  tiny  cockle-shell 

35 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

rolled  strangely,  although  the  sea  seemed  as  level 
as  a  floor,  held  a  subtle  excitement.  Darkness  crept 
down  out  of  the  unpeopled  gorges  and  swallowed 
them  up,  thrilling  her  with  a  sense  of  mystery. 

When  midnight  came  she  found  that  she  was 
ravenously  hungry,  and  she  was  agreeably  surprised 
when  O'Neil  produced  an  elaborate  lunch.  There 
were  even  thermos  bottles  filled  with  steaming  hot 
coffee,  more  delicious,  she  thought,  than  anything 
she  had  ever  before  tasted.  He  called  the  meal 
their  after-theater  party,  pretending  that  they  had 
just  come  from  a  Broadway  melodrama  of  shipwreck 
and  peril.  The  subject  led  them  naturally  to  talk 
of  New  York,  and  she  found  he  was  more  familiar 
with  the  city  than  she. 

"I  usually  spend  my  winters  there,"  he  explained. 

"Then  you  have  an  office  in  the  city?" 

"Oh  yes.  I've  maintained  a  place  of  business 
there  for  years." 

' '  Where  is  it  ?     On  Wall  Street  ?' ' 

"  No !"  he  smiled.  ' '  On  upper  Fifth  Avenue.  It's 
situated  in  the  extreme  southwest  corner  of  the 
men's  cafe"  at  the  Holland  House.  It  consists  of  a 
round  mahogany  table  and  a  leather  settee."' 

"Really!" 

"That's  where  I'm  to  be  found  at  least  four 
months  out  of  every  twelve." 

"They  told  me  you  built  railroads." 

"I  do — when  I'm  lucky  enough  to  underbid  my 
competitors.  But  that  isn't  always,  and  railroads 
aren't  built  every  day." 

"Mr.  Gordon  is  building  one." 

"So  I'm  told."  O'Neil  marveled  at  the  trick  of 
fortune  which  had  entangled  this  girl  and  her 

36 


A   JOURNEY    ENDING  AT   HOPE 

mother  in  the  web  of  that  brilliant  and  unscrupulous 
adventurer. 

"Perhaps  it  will  be  a  great  success  like  your 
famous  North  Pass  &  Yukon  Railway." 

"Let  us  hope  so."  He  was  tempted  to  inquire 
what  use  Gordon  had  made  of  that  widely  advertised 
enterprise  in  floating  his  own  undertaking,  but 
instead  he  asked: 

"Your  mother  has  invested  heavily,  has  she  not?" 

"Not  in  the  railroad.  Her  fortune,  and  mine 
too,  is  all  in  the  coal  mines." 

O'Neil  smothered  an  exclamation. 

"What  is  it?"  she  demanded. 

"Nothing,  only — are  you  sure?" 

"Oh,  quite  sure!  The  mines  are  rich,  aren't 
they?" 

"There  are  no  mines,"  he  informed  her,  "thanks 
to  our  misguided  lawmakers  at  Washington.  There 
are  vast  deposits  of  fine  coal  which  would  make 
mines  if  we  were  allowed  to  work  them,  but — we  are 
not  allowed," 

"'We'?    Are  you  a — a  coal  person,  like  us?" 

"Yes.  I  was  one  of  the  first  men  in  the  Kyak 
fields,  and  I  invested  heavily.  I  know  Mr.  Gordon's 
group  of  claims  well.  I  have  spent  more  than  a 
hundred  thousand  dollars  trying  to  perfect  my  titles 
and  I'm  no  nearer  patent  now  than  I  was  to  begin 
with — not  so  near,  in  fact.  I  fancy  Gordon  has 
spent  as  much  and  is  in  the  same  fix.  It  is  a  coal 
matter  which  brings  me  to  Alaska  now." 

"I  hardly  understand. " 

"Of  course  not,  and  you  probably  won't  after  I 
explain.  You  see  the  Government  gave  us — gave 
everybody  who  owns  coal  locations  in  Alaska — 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

three  years  in  which  to  do  certain  things;  then  it 
extended  that  time  another  three  years.  But  re 
cently  a  new  Secretary  of  the  Interior  has  come 
into  office  and  he  has  just  rescinded  that  later  ruling, 
without  warning,  which  gives  us  barely  time  to 
comply  with  the  law  as  it  first  stood.  For  my  part, 
I'll  have  to  hustle  or  lose  everything  I  have  put  in. 
You  see?  That's  why  I  hated  to  see  those  horses 
drown,  for  I  intended  to  use  them  in  reaching  the 
coal-fields.  Now  I'll  have  to  hire  men  to  carry  their 
loads.  No  doubt  Mr.  Gordon  has  arranged  to  pro 
tect  your  holdings,  but  there  are  hundreds  of 
claimants  who  will  be  ruined." 

"I  supposed  the  Government  protected  its  sub 
jects,"  said  the  girl,  vaguely. 

"One  of  the  illusions  taught  in  the  elementary 
schools,"  laughed  O'Neil.  * '  We  Alaskans  have  found 
that  it  does  exactly  the  opposite!  We  have  found 
it  a  harsh  and  unreasonable  landlord.  But  I'm 
afraid  I'm  boring  you."  He  wrapped  her  more 
snugly  in  her  coverings,  for  a  chill  had  descended 
with  the  darkness,  then  strove  to  enliven  her  with 
stories  garnered  from  his  rich  experience — stories 
which  gave  her  fascinating  glimpses  of  great  under 
takings  and  made  her  feel  personally  acquainted 
with  people  of  unfamiliar  type,  whose  words  and 
deeds,  mirthful  or  pathetic,  were  always  refreshingly 
original.  Of  certain  individuals  he  spoke  repeatedly 
until  their  names  became  familiar  to  his  hearer. 
He  called  them  his  "boys"  and  his  voice  was  tender 
as  he  told  of  their  doings. 

"These  men  are  your  staff?"  she  ventured. 

"Yes.  Every  one  who  succeeds  in  big  work  must 
have  loyal  hands  to  help  him." 

38 


A  JOURNEY   ENDING  AT   HOPE 

"Where  are  they  now?" 

"Oh!  Scattered  from  Canada  to  Mexico,  each 
one  doing  his  own  particular  work.  There's  Mellen, 
for  instance;  he's  in  Chihuahua  building  a  cantilever 
bridge.  He's  the  best  steel  man  in  the  country. 
McKay,  my  superintendent,  is  running  a  railroad 
job  in  California.  '  Happy  Tom  '  Slater — " 

"The  funny  man  with  the  blues?" 

' '  Exactly !  He  was  at  work  on  a  hydraulic  project 
near  Dawson  the  last  I  heard  of  him.  Dr.  Gray  is 
practising  in  Seattle,  and  Parker,  the  chief  engineer, 
has  a  position  of  great  responsibility  in  Boston. 
He  is  the  brains  of  our  outfit,  you  understand;  it 
was  really  he  who  made  the  North  Pass  &  Yukon 
possible.  The  others  are  scattered  out  in  the  same 
way,  but  they'd  all  come  if  I  called  them."  The 
first  note  of  pride  she  had  detected  crept  into  his 
voice  when  he  said:  "My  'boys'  are  never  .idle. 
They  don't  have  to  be,  after  working  with  me." 

"And  what  is  your  part  of  the  work?"  asked  the 
girl. 

"I?  Oh,  I'm  like  Marcelline,  the  clown  at  the 
Hippodrome — always  pretending  to  help,  but  forever 
keeping  underfoot.  When  it  becomes  necessary  I 
raise  the  money  to  keep  the  performance  going." 

' '  Do  you  really  mean  that  all  those  men  would  give 
up  their  positions  and  come  to  you  if  you  sent  for 
them?" 

' '  By  the  first  train,  or  afoot,  if  there  were  no  other 
way.  They'd  follow  me  to  the  Philippines  or 
Timbuctoo,  regardless  of  their  homes  and  their 
families." 

"That  is  splendid!  You  must  feel  very  proud  of 
inspiring  such  loyalty,"  said  Natalie.  "But  why 

30 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

are  you  idle  now?  Surely  there  are  railroads  to  be 
built  somewhere." 

"Yes,  I  was  asked  to  figure  on  a  contract  in  Man 
churia  the  other  day.  I  could  have  had  it  easily, 
and  it  would  have  meant  my  everlasting  fortune, 
but—" 

"But  what?" 

"I  found  it  isn't  a  white  man's  country.  It's 
sickly  and  unsafe.  Some  of  my  *  boys '  would  die 
before  we  finished  it,  and  the  game  isn't  worth  that 
price.  No,  I'll  wait.  Something  better  will  turn 
up.  It  always  does." 

As  Natalie  looked  upon  that  kindly,  square-hewn 
face  with  its  tracery  of  lines  about  the  eyes,  its  fine, 
strong  jaw,  and  its  indefinable  expression  of  power, 
she  began  to  understand  more  fully  why  those  with 
whom  she  had  talked  had  spoken  of  Murray  O'Neil 
with  an  almost  worshipful  respect.  She  felt  very 
insignificant  and  purposeless  as  she  huddled  there 
beside  him,  and  her  complacence  at  his  attentions 
deepened  into  a  vivid  sense  of  satisfaction.  Thus  far 
he  had  spoken  entirely  of  men;  she  wondered  if  he 
ever  thought  of  women,  and  thrilled  a  bit  at  the  in 
timacy  that  had  sprung  up  between  them  so  quickly 
and  naturally. 

It  confirmed  her  feeling  of  prideful  confidence  in 
the  man  that  the  north-bound  freighter  should 
punctually  show  her  lights  around  the  islands  and 
that  she  should  pause  in  her  majestic  sweep  at  the 
signal  of  this  pigmy  craft.  The  ship  loomed  huge 
and  black  and  terrifying  as  the  launch  at  length  drew 
in  beneath  it;  its  sides  towered  like  massive,  un 
scalable  ramparts.  There  was  a  delay ;  there  seemed 
to  be  some  querulousness  on  the  part  of  the  officer 

40 


A  JOURNEY    ENDING   AT   HOPE 

in  command  at  being  thus  halted,  some  doubt  about 
allowing  strangers  to  come  aboard.  But  the  girl 
smiled  to  herself  as  the  voices  flung  themselves  back 
and  forth  through  the  night.  Once  they  learned  who 
it  was  that  called  from  the  sea  their  attitude  would 
quickly  change.  Sure  enough,  in  a  little  while  orders 
were  shouted  from  the  bridge;  she  heard  men  run 
ning  from  somewhere,  and  a  rope  ladder  came 
swinging  down.  O'Neil  was  lifting  her  from  her 
warm  nest  of  rugs  now  and  telling  her  to  fear  noth 
ing.  The  launch  crept  closer,  coughing  and  shud 
dering  as  if  in  terror  at  this  close  contact.  There 
was  a  brief  instant  of  breathlessness  as  the  girl  found 
herself  swung  out  over  the  waters;  then  a  short 
climb  with  O' Neil's  protecting  hand  at  her  waist 
and  she  stood  panting,  radiant,  upon  steel  decks 
which  began  to  throb  and  tremble  to  the  churning 
engines. 

One  further  task  remained  for  her  protector's 
magic  powers.  It  appeared  that  there  were  no 
quarters  on  the  ship  for  women,  but  after  a  subdued 
colloquy  between  Murray  and  the  captain  she  was 
led  to  the  cleanest  and  coziest  of  staterooms  high 
up  near  the  bridge.  Over  the  door  she  glimpsed  a 
metal  plate  with  the  words  "First  Officer"  lettered 
upon  it.  O'Neil  was  bidding  her  good  night  and 
wishing  her  untroubled  rest,  then  almost  before  she 
had  accustomed  herself  to  her  new  surroundings  an 
immaculate,  though  sleepy,  Japanese  steward  stood 
before  her  with  a  tray.  He  was  extremely  cheerful 
for  one  so  lately  awakened,  being  still  aglow  with 
pleased  surprise  over  the  banknote  which  lay  neatly 
folded  in  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

Natalie  sat  cross-legged  on  her  berth  and  munched 
4  4* 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

with  the  appetite  of  a  healthy  young  animal  at  the 
fruit  and  biscuits  and  lovely  heavy  cake  which  the 
steward  had  brought.  She  was  very  glad  now  that 
she  had  disobeyed  her  mother.  It  was  high  time, 
indeed,  to  assert  herself,  for  she  was  old  enough  to 
know  something  of  the  world,  and  her  judgment  of 
men  was  mature  enough  to  insure  perfect  safety — 
that  much  had  been  proved.  She  felt  that  her  ad 
venture  had  been  a  great  success  practically  and  ro 
mantically.  She  wanted  to  lie  awake  and  think 
it  over  in  detail,  but  she  soon  grew  sleepy.  Just 
before  she  dozed  off  she  wondered  drowsily  if  "The 
Irish  Prince"  had  found  quarters  for  himself,  then 
reflected  that  undoubtedly  the  captain  had  been 
happy  to  tumble  out  of  bed  for  him.  Or  perhaps  he 
felt  no  fatigue  and  would  watch  the  night  through. 
Even  now  he  might  be  pacing  the  deck  outside  her 
door.  At  any  rate,  he  was  not  far  off.  She  closed 
her  eyes,  feeling  deliciously  secure  and  comfortable. 

In  one  way  the  southern  coast  of  Alaska  may  be 
said  to  be  perhaps  a  million  years  younger  than 
any  land  on  this  continent,  for  it  is  still  in  the  glacial 
period.  The  vast  alluvial  plains  and  valleys  of  the 
interior  are  rimmed  in  to  the  southward  and  shut 
off  from  the  Pacific  by  a  well-nigh  impassable  moun 
tain  barrier,  the  top  of  which  is  capped  with  perpetual 
snow.  Its  gorges,  for  the  most  part,  run  rivers  of 
ice  instead  of  water.  Europe  has  nothing  like  these 
glaciers  which  overflow  the  Alaskan  valleys  and  sub 
merge  the  hills,  for  many  of  them  contain  more  ice 
than  the  whole  of  Switzerland.  This  range  is  the 
Andes  of  the  north,  and  it  curves  westward  in  a 
magnificent  sweep,  hugging  the  shore  for  a  thousand 


A  JOURNEY    ENDING   AT   HOPE 

leagues.  Against  it  the  sea  beats  stormily  ;  its  frozen 
crest  is  played  upon  by  constant  rains  and  fogs  and 
blizzards.  But  over  beyond  lies  a  land  of  sunshine, 
of  long,  dry,  golden  summer  days. 

Into  this  chaos  of  cliff  and  peak  and  slanting 
canon,  midway  to  the  westward,  is  let  King  Phillip 
Sound,  a  sheet  of  water  dotted  with  islands  and 
framed  by  forests.  It  reaches  inland  with  long, 
crooked  tentacles  which  end  like  talons,  in  living 
ice.  Hidden  some  forty  miles  up  one  of  these,  upon 
the  moraine  of  a  receding  glacier,  sits  Cortez,  a 
thriving  village  and  long  the  point  of  entry  to  the 
interior,  the  commencement  of  the  overland  trail 
to  the  golden  valleys  of  the  Yukon  and  the  Tanana. 
The  Government  wagon  trail  winds  in  from  here, 
tracing  its  sinuous  course  over  one  pass  after  another 
until  it  emerges  into  the  undulating  prairies  of  the 
"inside  country." 

Looking  at  the  map,  one  would  imagine  that  an 
easier  gateway  to  the  heart  of  Alaska  would  be  af 
forded  by  the  valley  of  the  Salmon  River,  which 
enters  the  ocean  some  few  miles  to  the  eastward  of 
King  Phillip  Sound,  but  there  are  formidable  diffi 
culties.  The  stream  bursts  the  last  rampart  of  the 
Coast  Range  asunder  by  means  of  a  canon  down 
which  it  rages  in  majestic  fury  and  up  which  no  craft 
can  navigate.  Then  it  spreads  itself  out  through  a 
dozen  shallow  mouths  across  a  forty-mile  delta  of 
silt  and  sand  and  glacial  wash.  As  if  Nature  feared 
her  arctic  strong-box  might  still  be  invaded  by  this 
route,  she  has  placed  additional  safeguards  to  the 
approach  in  the  form  of  giant  glaciers,  through  the 
very  bowels  of  which  the  Salmon  River  is  forced  to 


43 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

In  the  early  days  of  the  Klondike  rush  men  had 
attempted  to  ascend  the  valley,  but  they  had  suc 
ceeded  only  at  the  cost  of  such  peril  and  disaster 
that  others  were  warned  away.  The  region  had 
become  the  source  of  many  weird  stories,  and  while 
the  ice-fields  could  be  seen  from  the  Kyak  coal 
fields,  and  on  still  days  their  cannonading  could  be 
heard  far  out  at  sea,  there  were  few  who  had  ventured 
to  cross  the  forty-mile  morass  which  lay  below  them 
and  thus  attempt  to  verify  or  to  disprove  the  rumors. 

It  was  owing  to  these  topographical  conditions 
that  Cortez  had  been  established  as  the  point  of 
entry  to  the  interior ;  it  was  because  of  them  that  she 
had  grown  and  flourished,  with  her  sawmills  and 
her  ginmills,  her  docks,  and  her  dives.  But  at  the 
time  when  this  story  opens  Alaska  had  developed  to 
a  point  where  an  overland  outlet  by  winter  and  a 
circuitous  inlet,  by  way  of  Bering  Sea  and  the 
crooked  Yukon,  in  summer  were  no  longer  sufficient. 
There  was  need  of  a  permanent  route  by  means  of 
which  men  and  freight  might  come  and  go  through 
all  the  year.  The  famous  North  Pass  &  Yukon 
Railway,  far  to  the  eastward,  afforded  transportation 
to  Dawson  City  and  the  Canadian  territory,  and 
had  proven  itself  such  a  financial  success  that 
builders  began  to  look  for  a  harbor,  more  to  the 
westward,  from  which  they  could  tap  the  great  heart 
of  Alaska.  Thus  it  was  that  Cortez  awoke  one  morn 
ing  to  find  herself  selected  as  the  terminus  of  a  new 
line.  Other  railway  propositions  followed,  flimsy 
promotion  schemes  for  the  most  part,  but  among 
them  two  that  had  more  than  paper  and  "hot  air" 
behind  them.  One  of  these  was  backed  by  the 
Copper  Trust  which  had  made  heavy  mining  invest- 

44 


A  JOURNEY   ENDING   AT   HOPE 

ments  two  hundred  miles  inland,  the  other  by 
Curtis  Gordon,  a  promoter,  who  claimed  New  York 
as  his  birthplace  and  the  world  as  his  residence. 

Gordon  had  been  one  of  the  first  locaters  in  the 
Kyak  coal-fields,  and  he  had  also  purchased  a  copper 
prospect  a  few  miles  down  the  bay  from  Cortez, 
where  he  had  started  a  town  which  he  called  Hope. 
There  were  some  who  shook  their  heads  and  smiled 
knowingly  when  they  spoke  of  that  prospect,  but  no 
one  denied  that  it  was  fast  assuming  the  outward 
semblance  of  a  mine  under  Gordon's  direction.  He 
had  erected  a  fine  substantial  wharf,  together  with 
buildings,  bunk  -  houses,  cottages,  and  a  spacious 
residence  for  himself;  and  daily  the  piles  of  debris 
beneath  the  tunnel  entries  to  his  workings  grew. 
He  paid  high  wages,  he  spent  money  lavishly,  and 
he  had  a  magnificent  and  compelling  way  with  him 
that  dazzled  and  delighted  the  good  people  of  Cortez. 
When  he  began  work  on  a  railroad  which  was  de 
signed  to  reach  far  into  the  interior  his  action  was 
taken  as  proof  positive  of  his  financial  standing, 
and  his  critics  were  put  down  as  pessimists  who  had 
some  personal  grudge  against  him. 

It  was  up  to  the  raw,  new  village  of  Hope,  with 
its  odor  of  fresh -cut  fir  and  undried  paint,  that 
the  freight-steamer  with  Natalie  Gerard  and  "The 
Irish  Prince"  aboard,  came  gingerly  one  evening. 

O'Neil  surveyed  the  town  with  some  curiosity  as 
he  approached,  for  Gordon's  sensational  doings  had 
interested  him  greatly.  He  was  accustomed  to  the 
rapid  metamorphoses  of  a  growing  land;  it  was  his 
business,  in  fact,  to  win  the  wilderness  over  to  order, 
and  therefore  he  was  not  astonished  at  the  changes 
wrought  here  during  his  absence.  But  he  was 

45 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

agreeably  surprised  at  the  businesslike  arrange 
ment  of  the  place,  and  the  evidence  that  a 
strong  and  practised  hand  had  guided  its  develop 
ment. 

Even  before  the  ship  had  tied  up  he  had  iden 
tified  the  tall,  impressive  man  on  the  dock  as  the 
genius  and  founder  of  Hope,  and  the  dark-haired, 
well-formed  woman  beside  him  as  Natalie's  mother. 
It  was  not  until  they  were  close  at  hand  that  the 
daughter  made  her  presence  known ;  then,  unable  to 
restrain  herself  longer,  she  shrieked  her  greeting 
down  over  the  rail.  Mrs.  Gerard  started,  then 
stared  upward  as  if  at  an  apparition;  she  stretched 
out  a  groping  hand  to  Gordon,  who  stood  as  if 
frozen  in  his  tracks.  They  seemed  to  be  exchanging 
hurried  words,  and  the  man  appeared  to  be  reassur 
ing  his  companion.  It  looked  very  odd  to  O'Neil; 
but  any  suspicion  that  Natalie  was  unwelcome  dis 
appeared  when  she  reached  the  dock.  Her  mother's 
dark  eyes  were  bright  with  unshed  tears  of  gladness, 
her  face  was  transfigured,  she  showed  the  strong, 
repressed  emotion  of  an  undemonstrative  nature  as 
they  embraced.  Natalie  clung  to  her,  laughing, 
crying,  bombarding  her  with  questions,  begging  for 
giveness,  and  babbling  of  her  adventures.  Their 
resemblance  was  striking,  and  in  point  of  beauty 
there  seemed  little  to  choose  between  them.  They 
might  have  been  nearly  of  an  age,  except  that  the 
mother  lacked  the  girl's  restless  vivacity. 

O'Neil  remained  in  the  background,  like  an  un 
comfortable  bridegroom,  conscious  meanwhile  of  the 
searching  and  hostile  regard  of  Curtis  Gordon.  But 
at  last  his  protegee  managed  to  gasp  out  in  a  more 
or  less  coherent  manner  the  main  facts  of  the  ship- 

46 


A  JOURNEY    ENDING   AT   HOPE 

wreck  and  her  rescue,  whereupon  Gordon's  attitude 
abruptly  altered. 

' '  My  God !"  he  ejaculated.  ' '  You  were  not  on  the 
Nebraska?" 

"Yes,  yes,  yes!"  cried  Natalie.  "The  life-boats 
went  off  and  left  me  all  alone — in  the  dark — with  the 
ship  sinking!  Mr.  O'Neil  saved  me.  He  took  me 
up  and  jumped  just  as  the  ship  sank,  and  we  were 
all  night  in  the  freezing  water.  We  nearly  died, 
didn't  we?  He  fainted,  and  so  did  I,  mummie  dear 
— it  was  so  cold.  He  held  me  up  until  we  were 
rescued,  though,  and  then  there  wasn't  room  in  the 
life-boat  for  both  of  us.  But  he  made  them  take  me 
in,  just  the  same,  while  he  stayed  in  the  water.  He 
was  unconscious  when  he  reached  the  shore.  Oh,  it 
was  splendid!" 

O' Neil's  identity  being  established,  and  the  nature 
of  his  service  becoming  apparent,  Curtis  Gordon 
took  his  hand  in  a  crushing  grip  and  thanked  him  in 
a  way  that  might  have  warmed  the  heart  of  a  stone 
gargoyle.  The  man  was  transformed,  now  that  he 
understood;  he  became  a  geyser  of  eloquence.  He 
poured  forth  his  appreciation  in  rounded  sentences; 
his  splendid  musical  voice  softened  and  swelled  and 
broke  with  a  magnificent  and  touching  emotion. 
Through  it  all  the  Irish  contractor  remained  uncom 
fortably  silent,  for  he  could  not  help  thinking  that 
this  fulsome  outburst  was  aroused  rather  by  the  man 
who  had  built  the  North  Pass  &  Yukon  than  by  the 
rescuer  of  Mrs.  Gerard's  daughter. 

As  for  the  mother,  she  said  little,  and  the  few 
words  she  spoke  to  him  were  stiffly  formal,  but  in 
the  depths  of  her  dazed,  wide-open  eyes  he  read  a 
gratitude  which  affected  him  deeply. 

47 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

A  crowd  was  collecting  round  them,  but  Gordon 
cleared  it  away  with  an  imperious  gesture. 

"Come!"  he  said.  "This  is  no  place  to  talk. 
Mr.  O' Neil's  splendid  gallantry  renders  our  mere 
thanks  inane.  He  must  allow  us  to  express  our 
gratitude  in  a  more  fitting  manner. " 

"Please  don't,"  exclaimed  O'Neil,  hastily. 

"You  are  our  guest;  the  hospitality  of  our  house 
is  yours.  Hope  would  be  honored  to  welcome  you, 
sir,  at  any  time,  but  under  these  circumstances — " 

"I'm  going  right  on  to  Cortez." 

"The  ship  will  remain  here  for  several  hours,  dis 
charging  freight,  and  we  insist  that  you  allow  us 
this  pleasure  meanwhile.  You  shall  spend  the  night 
here,  then  perhaps  you  will  feel  inclined  to  prolong 
your  stay.  All  that  Cortez  has  we  have  in  double 
proportion — I  say  it  with  pride.  Cortez  is  no  longer 
the  metropolis  of  the  region.  Hope —  Well,  I  may 
say  that  Cortez  is,  of  all  Alaskan  cities,  the  most  for 
tunate,  since  it  has  realized  its  Hope."  He  laughed 
musically.  ' '  This  town  has  come  to  stay ;  we  intend 
to  annex  Cortez  eventually.  If  you  feel  that  you 
must  go  on,  I  shall  deem  it  a  pleasure  to  send  you 
later  in  my  motor-boat.  She  makes  the  run  in  fifteen 
minutes.  But  you  must  first  honor  our  house  and 
our  board;  you  must  permit  us  to  pledge  your  health 
in  a  glass.  We  insist!" 

"Please!"  said  Mrs.  Gerard. 

"Do  come,  your  Highness,"  Natalie  urged,  from 
the  shelter  of  the  elder  woman's  arms. 

"You're  more  than  kind,"  said  O'Neil,  and  to 
gether  the  four  turned  their  faces  to  the  shore. 


WHEREIN   WE   SEE   CURTIS   GORDON   AND   OTHERS 

CURTIS  GORDON'S  respect  for  his  guest  in- 
v^  creased  as  they  walked  up  the  dock,  for,  before 
they  had  taken  many  steps,  out  from  the  crowd  which 
had  gathered  to  watch  the  ship's  arrival  stepped  one 
of  his  foremen.  This  fellow  shook  hands  warmly 
with  O'Neil,  whereupon  others  followed,  one  by  one 
— miners,  day  laborers,  "rough-necks"  of  many 
nationalities.  They  doffed  their  hats — something 
they  never  did  for  Gordon — and  stretched  out  grimy 
hands,  their  faces  lighting  up  with  smiles.  O'Neil 
accepted  their  greetings  with  genuine  pleasure  and 
called  them  by  name. 

"We  just  heard  you  was  shipwrecked,"  said  Gor 
don's  foreman,  anxiously.  "You  wasn't  hurt,  was 
you?" 

"Not  in  the  feast." 

"God  be  praised!  There's  a  lot  of  the  old  gang 
at  work  here." 

"So  I  see." 

"Here's  Shorty,  that  you  may  remember  from  the 
North  Pass."  The  speaker  dragged  from  the  crowd 
a  red-faced,  perspiring  ruffian  who  had  hung  back 
with  the  bashfulness  of  a  small  boy.  "He's  the 
fellow  you  dug  out  of  the  slide  at  twenty-eight." 

"Connors!"  cried  O'Neil,  warmly.  "I'm  glad  to 
see  you.  And  how  are  the  two  arms  of  you?" 

49 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"Better  'n  ever  they  was,  the  both  av  them!" 
Mr.  Connors  blushed,  doubled  his  fists  and  flexed 
his  bluging  muscles.  "An'  why  shouldn't  they  be, 
when  you  set  'em  both  with  your  own  hands,  Misther 
O'Neil  ?  'Twas  as  good  a  job  as  Doc  Gray  ever  done 
in  the  hospittle.  I  hope  you're  doin'  well,  sir." 
He  pulled  his  forelock,  placed  one  foot  behind  the 
other,  and  tapped  it  on  the  planking,  grinning  ex 
pansively. 

"Very  well  indeed,  thank  you." 

O' Neil's  progress  was  slow,  for  half  the  crowd  in 
sisted  upon  shaking  his  hand  and  exchanging  a  few 
words  with  him.  Clumsy  Swedes  bobbed  their 
heads,  dark-browed  foreign  laborers  whose  nation 
ality  it  was  hard  to  distinguish  showed  their  teeth 
and  chattered  words  of  greeting. 

"Bless  my  soul!"  Gordon  exclaimed,  finally. 
"You  know  more  of  them  than  I  do." 

"Yes!     I  seldom  have  to  fire  a  man." 

"Then  you  are  favored  of  the  gods.  Labor  is  my 
great  problem.  It  is  the  supreme  drawback  of  this 
country.  These  people  drift  and  blow  on  every 
breeze,  like  the  sands  of  the  Sahara.  With  more  and 
better  help  I  could  work  wonders  here." 

Unexpected  as  these  salutations  had  been,  O' Neil's 
greatest  surprise  came  a  moment  later  as  he  passed 
the  first  of  the  company  buildings.  There  he  heard 
his  name  pronounced  in  a  voice  which  halted  him, 
and  in  an  open  doorway  he  beheld  a  huge,  loose- 
hung  man  of  tremendous  girth,  with  a  war-bag  in  his 
hand  and  a  wide  black  hat  thrust  back  from  a  shiny 
forehead. 

"Why,  Tom!"  he  exclaimed.     "Tom  Slater!" 

Gordon  groaned  and  went  on  with  the  women, 

50 


CURTIS  GORDON  AND  OTHERS 

saying:  "Come  up  to  the  house  when  you  escape, 
Mr.  O'Neil.  I  shall  have  dinner  served." 

Mr.  Slater  came  forward  slowly,  dragging  his 
clothes-bag  with  him.  The  two  shook  hands. 

"What  in  the  world  are  you  doing  here,  Tom?" 

"Nothing!"  said  Slater.  He  had  a  melancholy 
cast  of  feature,  utterly  out  of  keeping  with  his 
rotund  form.  In  his  eye  was  the  somber  glow  of  a 
soul  at  war  with  the  flesh. 

"Nothing?" 

"I  had  a  good  job,  putting  in  a  power  plant  for 
his  nibs"  —  he  indicated  the  retreating  Gordon 
with  a  disrespectful  jerk  of  the  thumb  —  "but  I 
quit." 

"Not  enough  pay?" 

"Best  wages  I  ever  got.     He  pays  well." 

"Poor  grub?" 

"Grub's  fine." 

"What  made  you  quit?" 

"I  haven't  exactly  quit,  but  I'm  going  to.  When 
I  saw  you  coming  up  the  dock  I  said:  'There's  the 
chief!  Now  he'll  want  me.'  So  I  began  to  pack." 
The  speaker  dangled  his  partly  filled  war-bag  as 
evidence.  In  an  even  sourer  tone  he  murmured: 
"Ain't  that  just  me?  I  ain't  had  a  day's  luck  since 
Lincoln  was  shot.  The  minute  I  get  a  good  job 
along  you  come  and  spoil  it." 

"I  don't  want  you,"  laughed  O'Neil. 

But  Slater  was  not  convinced.     He  shook  his  head, 

"Oh  yes,  you  do.  You've  got  something  on  or 
you  wouldn't  be  here.  I've  been  drawing  pay  from 
you  now  for  over  five  minutes." 

O'Neil  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"No!    No!    In  the  first  place,  I  have  nothing  for 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

you  to  do;  in  the  second  place,  I  probably  couldn't 
afford  the  wages  Gordon  is  paying  you." 

1  'That's  the  hell  of  it!"  gloomily  agreed  "Happy 
Tom. "  ' '  Where  are  your  grips  ?  I  '11  begin  by  carry 
ing  them." 

"I  haven't  any.  I've  been  shipwrecked.  Seri 
ously,  Tom,  I  have  no  place  for  you." 

The  repetition  of  this  statement  made  not  the 
smallest  impression  upon  the  hearer. 

"You'll  have  one  soon  enough,"  he  replied.  Then 
with  a  touch  of  spirit,  "Do  you  think  I'd  work  for 
this  four-flusher  if  you  were  in  the  country?" 

"Hush!"  O'Neil  cast  a  glance  over  his  shoulder. 
"By  the  way,  how  do  you  happen  to  be  here?  I 
thought  you  were  in  Dawson." 

"I  finished  that  job.  I  was  working  back  toward 
ma  and  the  children.  I  haven't  seen  them  for  two 
years." 

"You  think  Gordon  is  a  false  alarm?" 

"Happy  Tom"  spat  with  unerring  accuracy  at  a 
crack,  then  said: 

"He's  talking  railroads!  Railroads!  Why,  I've 
got  a  boy  back  in  the  state  of  Maine,  fourteen  years 
old—" 

"Willie?" 

"Yes.  My  son  Willie  could  skin  Curtis  Gordon 
at  railroad-building — and  Willie  is  the  sickly  one  of 
the  outfit.  But  I'll  hand  it  to  Gordon  for  one  thing; 
he's  a  money  -  getter  and  a  money  -  spender.  He 
knows  where  the  loose  stone  in  the  hearth  is  laid, 
and  he  knows  just  which  lilac  bush  the  family  savings 
are  buried  under.  Those  penurious  Pilgrim  Fathers 
in  my  part  of  the  country  come  up  and  drop  their 
bankbooks  through  the  slot  in  his  door  every  morn- 

52 


CURTIS  GORDON  AND  OTHERS 

ing.  He's  the  first  easy  money  I  ever  had;  I'd  get 
rich  off  of  him,  but" — Slater  sighed — "of  course 
you  had  to  come  along  and  wrench  me  away  from  the 
till." 

"Don't  quit  on  my  account,"  urged  his  former 
chief.  "I'm  up  here  on  coal  matters.  I  can't  take 
time  to  explain  now,  but  I'll  see  you  later." 

"Suit  yourself,  only  don't  keep  me  loafing  on  full 
time.  I'm  an  expensive  man.  I'll  be  packed  and 
waiting  for  you." 

O'Neil  went  on  his  way,  somewhat  amused,  yet 
undeniably  pleased  at  finding  his  boss  packer  here 
instead  of  far  inland,  for  Slater's  presence  might, 
after  all,  fit  well  enough  into  his  plans. 

"The  Irish  Prince"  had  gained  something  of  a 
reputation  for  extravagance,  but  he  acknowledged 
himself  completely  outshone  by  the  luxury  with 
which  Curtis  Gordon  had  surrounded  himself  at 
Hope.  The  promoter  had  spoken  of  his  modest 
living-quarters — in  reality  they  consisted  of  a  hand 
some  twenty-room  house,  furnished  with  the  ele 
gance  of  a  Newport  cottage.  The  rugs  were  thick 
and  richly  colored;  the  furniture  was  of  cathedral 
oak  and  mahogany.  In  the  library  were  deep 
leather  chairs  and  bookcases,  filled  mainly  with 
the  works  of  French  and  German  authors  of  decadent 
type.  The  man's  taste  in  art  was  revealed  by 
certain  pictures,  undeniably  clever,  but  a  little  too 
daring.  He  was  undoubtedly  a  sybarite,  yet  he 
evidently  possessed  rare  energy  and  executive  force. 
It  was  an  unusual  combination. 

The  dinner  was  notable  mainly  for  its  lavish  dis 
regard  of  expense.  There  were  strawberries  from 
Seattle,  fresh  cream  and  butter  from  Gordon's  im- 

53 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

ported  cows,  cheese  prepared  expressly  for  him  in 
France,  and  a  champagne  the  date  of  which  he  took 
pains  to  make  known. 

On  the  whole  he  played  the  part  of  host  agreeably 
enough  and  his  constant  flow  of  talk  was  really 
entertaining.  His  anecdotes  embraced  three  con 
tinents;  his  wit,  though  Teutonic,  was  genial  and 
mirth-provoking.  When  Mrs.  Gerard  took  time 
from  her  worshipful  regard  of  her  daughter  to  enter 
the  conversation,  she  spoke  with  easy  charm  and 
spontaneity.  As  for  Natalie,  she  was  intoxicated 
with  delight;  she  chattered,  she  laughed,  she  inter 
rupted  with  the  joyful  exuberance  of  youth. 

Under  such  circumstances  the  meal  should  have 
proved  enjoyable,  yet  the  guest  of  honor  had  never 
been  more  ill  at  ease.  Precisely  what  accounted  for 
the  feeling  he  could  not  quite  determine.  Some 
where  back  in  his  mind  was  a  suspicion  that  things 
were  not  as  they  should  be,  here  in  this  house  of 
books  and  pictures  and  incongruities.  He  told  him 
self  that  he  should  not  be  so  narrow-minded  as  to 
resent  Gloria  Gerard's  presence  here,  particularly 
since  she  herself  had  told  him  that  her  friendship  for 
Gordon  dated  back  many  years.  Nevertheless,  the 
impression  remained  to  disturb  him. 

"You  wonder,  perhaps,  why  I  have  been  so  extrava 
gant  with  my  living- quarters,"  said  Gordon,  as  they 
walked  into  the  library,  "but  it  is  not  alone  for 
myself.  You  see  I  have  people  associated  with 
me  who  are  accustomed  to  every  comfort  and  luxury 
and  I  built  this  house  for  them.  Mrs.  Gerard  has 
been  kind  enough  to  grace  the  establishment  with 
her  presence,  and  I  expect  others  of  my  stock 
holders  to  do  likewise.  You  see,  I  work  in  the  light, 

54 


CURTIS  GORDON  AND  OTHERS 

Mr.  O'Neil;  I  insist  upon  the  broadest  publicity 
in  all  my  operations,  and  to  that  end  I  strive  to 
bring  my  clients  into  contact  with  the  undertaking 
itself.  For  instance,  I  am  bringing  a  party  of  my 
stockholders  all  the  way  from  New  York,  at  my 
own  expense,  just  to  show  them  how  their  interests 
are  being  administered.  I  have  chartered  a  special 
train  and  a  ship  for  them,  and  of  course  they  must 
be  properly  entertained  while  here." 

" Quite  a  scheme,"  said  O'Neil. 

"I  wanted  to  show  them  this  marvelous  country, 
God's  wonderland  of  opportunity.  They  will  return 
impressed  by  the  solidity  and  permanence  of  their 
investment." 

Certainly  the  man  knew  how  to  play  his  game. 
No  more  effective  means  of  advertising,  no  more 
profitable  stock-jobbing  scheme  could  be  devised 
than  a  free  trip  of  that  sort  and  a  tour  of  Alaska 
under  the  watchful  guidance  of  Curtis  Gordon.  If 
any  member  of  the  party  returned  unimpressed  it 
would  not  be  the  fault  of  the  promoter;  if  any  one 
of  them  did  not  voluntarily  go  out  among  his  * 
personal  friends  as  a  missionary  it  would  be  because 
Gordon's  magnetism  had  lost  its  power.  O'Neil  felt 
a  touch  of  unwilling  admiration. 

* '  I  judge,  from  what  you  say,  that  the  mine  gives 
encouragement,"  he  ventured,  eying  his  host  curi 
ously  through  a  cloud  of  tobacco  smoke. 

"  'Encouragement '  is  not  the  word.  Before  many 
years  'Hope  Consolidated'  will  be  listed  on  the 
exchanges  of  the  world  along  with  'Amalgamated' 
and  the  other  great  producers.  We  have  here,  Mr. 
O'Neil,  a  tremendous  mountain  of  ore,  located  at 
tide  water,  on  one  of  the  world's  finest  harbors. 

55 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

The  climate  is  superb;  we  have  coal  near  at  hand 
for  our  own  smelter.  The  mine  only  requires  sys 
tematic  development  under  competent  hands." 

"I  was  in  Cortez  when  Lars  Anderson  made  his 
first  discovery  here,  and  I  had  an  option  on  all  this 
property.  I  believe  the  price  was  twelve  hundred 
dollars;  at  any  rate,  it  was  I  who  drove  those  tunnels 
you  found  when  you  bought  him  out." 

Gordon's  eyes  wavered  briefly,  then  he  laughed. 

"My  dear  sir,  you  have  my  sincere  sympathy. 
Your  poison,  my  meat — as  it  were,  eh?  You  be 
came  discouraged  too  soon.  Another  hundred  feet 
of  work  and  you  would  have  been  justified  in  paying 
twelve  hundred  thousand  dollars.  This  'Eldorado' 
which  the  Copper  Trust  has  bought  has  a  greater 
surface  showing  than  'Hope,'  I  grant;  but — it  lies 
two  hundred  miles  inland,  and  there  is  the  all- 
important  question  of  transportation  to  be  solved. 
The  ore  will  have  to  be  hauled,  or  smelted  on  the 
ground,  while  we  have  the  Kyak  coal-fields  at  our 
door.  The  Heidlemanns  are  building  a  railroad  to 
it  which  will  parallel  mine  in  places,  but  the  very 
nature  of  their  enterprise  foredooms  it  to  failure." 

"Indeed?    How  so?" 

"My  route  is  the  better.  By  a  rigid  economy  of 
expenditure,  by  a  careful  supervision  of  detail,  I  can 
effect  a  tremendous  saving  over  their  initial  cost. 
I  hope  to  convince  them  of  the  fact,  and  thus  induce 
them  to  withdraw  from  the  field  or  take  over  my 
road  at — a  reasonable  figure.  Negotiations  are 
under  way." 

At  this  talk  of  economy  from  Curtis  Gordon 
O'Neil  refrained  from  smiling  with  difficulty.  He 
felt  certain  that  the  man's  entire  operations  were  as 

56 


CURTIS  GORDON  AND  OTHERS 

unsound  as  his  statement  that  he  could  bring  the 
Trust  to  terms.  Yet  Gordon  seemed  thoroughly  in 
earnest.  Either  he  expected  to  fool  his  present 
hearer,  or  else  he  had  become  hypnotized  by  the  spell 
of  his  own  magnificent  twaddle — O'Neil  could  not 
tell  which. 

"Who  laid  out  your  right-of-way?"  he  asked  with 
some  interest. 

"A  very  able  young  engineer,  Dan  Appleton. 
An  excellent  man,  but — unreliable  in  certain  things. 
I  had  to  let  him  go,  this  very  afternoon,  in  fact,  for 
insubordination.  But  I  discharged  him  more  for 
the  sake  of  discipline  than  anything  else.  He'll  be 
anxious  to  return  in  a  few  days.  Now  tell  me" — 
Gordon  fixed  his  visitor  with  a  bland  stare  which 
failed  to  mask  his  gnawing  curiosity — "what  brings 
you  to  King  Phillip  Sound?  Are  we  to  be  rivals  in 
the  railroad  field?" 

"No.  There  are  enough  projects  of  that  sort 
in  the  neighborhood  for  the  present." 

"Five,  all  told,  but  only  one  destined  to  succeed." 

"I'm  bound  for  the  Kyak  coal-fields  to  perfect 
and  amend  my  surveys  under  the  new  ruling." 

"Ah !     I've  heard  about  that  ruling." 

"Heard  about  it?"  exclaimed  O'Neil.  "Good 
Lord!  Haven't  you  complied  with  it?" 

"Not  yet." 

"You  surely  intend  to  do  so?" 

"Oh  yes — I  suppose  so." 

"If  you  don't  you'll  lose — " 

"I'm  not  sure  we  can  ever  win." 

"Nonsense!" 

"I'm  not  sure  that  it's  wise  to  put  more  good 
money  into  those  coal  claims,"  said  Gordon.  "This 
5  57 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

ruling  will  doubtless  be  reversed  as  the  others  have 
been.  One  never  knows  what  the  Land  Office  policy 
will  be  two  days  at  a  time." 

"You  know  your  own  business,"  O'Neil  remarked 
after  a  pause,  "but  unless  you  have  inside  informa 
tion,  or  a  bigger  pull  in  Washington  than  the  rest 
of  us,  I'd  advise  you  to  get  busy.  I'll  be  on  my  way 
to  Kyak  in  the  morning  with  a  gang  of  men." 
Gordon's  attitude  puzzled  him,  for  he  could  not 
bring  himself  to  believe  that  such  indifference  was 
genuine. 

"We  have  been  treated  unfairly  by  the  Govern 
ment." 

"Granted!" 

"We  have  been  fooled,  cheated,  hounded  as  if 
we  were  a  crowd  of  undesirable  aliens,  and  I'm 
heartily  sick  of  the  injustice.  I  prefer  to  work  along 
lines  of  least  resistance.  I  feel  tempted  to  let  Uncle 
Sam  have  my  coal  claims,  since  he  has  lied  to  me 
and  gone  back  on  his  promise,  and  devote  myself 
to  other  enterprises  which  offer  a  certainty  of  greater 
profits.  But" — Gordon  smiled  deprecatingly — "I 
dare  say  I  shall  hold  on,  as  you  are  doing,  until  that 
fossilized  bureau  at  Washington  imposes  some  new 
condition  which  will  ruin  us  all." 

Remembering  Natalie's  statement  that  her  own 
and  her  mother's  fortunes  were  tied  up  in  the  mines, 
O'Neil  felt  inclined  to  go  over  Gordon's  head  and 
tell  the  older  woman  plainly  the  danger  of  delay  in 
complying  with  the  law,  but  he  thought  better  of  the 
impulse.  Her  confidence  in  this  man  was  supreme 
and  it  seemed  incredible  that  Gordon  should  jeopar 
dize  her  holdings  and  his  own.  More  likely  his  atti 
tude  was  just  a  part  of  his  pose,  designed  to  show  the 

58 


CURTIS  GORDON  AND  OTHERS 

bigness  of  his  views  and  to  shed  a  greater  luster 
upon  his  railroad  project. 

It  was  difficult  to  escape  from  the  hospitality  of 
Hope,  and  O'Neil  succeeded  in  doing  so  only  after 
an  argument  with  Natalie  and  her  mother.  They 
let  him  go  at  last  only  upon  his  promise  to  return 
on  his  way  back  from  the  coal-fields,  and  they  in 
sisted  upon  accompanying  him  down  to  the  dock, 
whither  Gordon  had  preceded  them  in  order  to  have 
his  motor-boat  in  readiness. 

As  they  neared  the  landing  they  overheard  the 
latter  in  spirited  debate  with  "Happy  Tom"  Slater. 

"But  my  dear  fellow,"  he  was  saying,  "I  can't 
lose  you  and  Appleton  on  the  same  day." 

"You  can't?  Why,  you've  done  it!"  the  fat  man 
retorted,  gruffly. 

"I  refuse  to  be  left  in  the  lurch  this  way.  You 
must  give  more  notice." 

Slater  shrugged,  and  without  a  word  tossed  his 
bulging  war  bag  into  the  motor -boat  which  lay 
moored  beneath  him.  His  employer's  face  was 
purple  with  rage  as  he  turned  to  Murray  and  the 
ladies,  but  he  calmed  himself  sufficiently  to  say: 

"This  man  is  in  charge  of  important  work  for  me, 
yet  he  tells  me  you  have  hired  him  away." 

"Tom!"  exclaimed  O'Neil. 

"I  never  said  that,"  protested  Slater.  "I  only 
told  you  I  was  working  for  Murray." 

"Well?" 

"I  hired  myself.  He  didn't  have  anything  to  say 
about  it.  I  do  all  the  hiring,  firing,  and  boosting 
in  my  department." 

"1  appeal  to  you,  O'Neil.  I'm  short-handed/' 
Gordon  cried. 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"I  tell  you  he  don't  have  a  word  to  say  about  it," 
Slater  declared  with  heat. 

Natalie  gave  a  little  tinkling  laugh.  She  recog 
nized  in  this  man  the  melancholy  hero  of  more  than 
one  tale  "The  Irish  Prince"  had  told  her.  Murray 
did  his  best,  but  knowing  "Happy  Tom's"  calm 
obstinacy  of  old,  he  had  no  real  hope  of  persuading 
him. 

"You  see  how  it  is,"  he  said,  finally.  "He's  been 
with  me  for  years  and  he  refuses  to  work  for  any 
one  else  while  I'm  around.  If  I  don't  take  him 
with  me  he'll  follow." 

Mr.  Slater  nodded  vigorously,  then  imparted 
these  tidings: 

"It's  getting  late,  and  my  feet  hurt."  He  bowed 
to  the  women,  then  lowered  himself  ponderously 
yet  carefully  over  the  edge  of  the  dock  and  into  the 
leather  cushions  of  the  launch.  Once  safely  aboard, 
he  took  a  package  of  wintergreen  chewing-gum  from 
his  pocket  and  began  to  chew,  staring  out  across 
the  sound  with  that  placid,  speculative  enjoyment 
which  reposes  in  the  eyes  of  a  cow  at  sunset. 

Curtis  Gordon's  face  was  red  and  angry  as  he 
shook  hands  stiffly  with  his  guest  and  voiced  the 
formal  hope  that  they  would  meet  again. 

"I'm  glad  to  be  gone,"  Slater  observed  as 
the  speed-boat  rushed  across  the  bay.  "I'm  a 
family  man,  and — I've  got  principles.  Gordon's  got 
neither." 

"It  was  outrageous  for  you  to  walk  out  so  sud 
denly.  It  embarrassed  me." 

"Oh,  he'd  let  me  go  without  notice  if  he  felt 
like  it.  He  fired  Dan  Appleton  this  afternoon  just 
for  telling  the  truth  about  the  mine.  That's  what 

60 


CURTIS  GORDON  AND  OTHERS 

I'd  have  got  if  I'd  stayed  on  much  longer.  I  was 
filling  up  with  words  and  my  skin  was  getting  tight. 
I'd  have  busted,  sure,  inside  of  a  week." 

"Isn't  the  mine  any  good?" 

"It  ain't  a  mine  at  all.  It's  nothing  but  an 
excavation  filled  with  damn  fools  and  owned  by 
idiots;  still,  I  s'pose  it  serves  Gordon's  purpose." 
After  a  pause  he  continued:  "They  tell  me  that 
snakes  eat  their  own  young!  Gordon  ought  to  call 
that  mine  the  Anaconda,  for  it  '11  swallow  its  own 
dividends  and  all  the  money  those  Eastern  people 


can  raise." 


"I'm  sorry  for  Mrs.  Gerard." 

Slater  emitted  a  sound  like  the  moist  exhalation 
of  a  porpoise  as  it  rises  to  the  surface. 

' '  What  do  you  mean  by  that  snort  ?"  asked  Murray. 

"It's  funny  how  much  some  people  are  like 
animals.  Now  the  ostrich  thinks  that  when  his 
head  is  hid  his  whole  running- gear  is  out  of  sight. 
Gordon's  an  ostrich.  As  for  you — you  remind  me 
of  a  mud  turtle.  A  turtle  don't  show  nothing  but 
his  head,  and  when  it's  necessary  he  can  yank  that 
under  cover.  Gordon  don't  seem  to  realize  that  he 
sticks  up  above  the  underbrush — either  that  or  else 
he  don't  care  who  sees  him.  He  and  that  woman — ' 

"Never  mind  her,"  exclaimed  O'Neil,  quickly. 
"I'm  sure  you're  mistaken." 

Mr.  Slater  grunted  once  more,  then  chewed  his 
gum  silently,  staring  mournfully  into  the  twilight. 
After  a  moment  he  inquired : 

"Why  don't  you  show  these  people  how  to.  build 
a  railroad,  Murray?" 

"No,  thank  you!  I  know  the  country  back  of 
here.  It's  not  feasible." 

61 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"The  Copper  Trust  is  doing  it." 

"All  the  more  reason  why  I  shouldn't.  There 
are  five  projects  under  way  now,  and  there  won't 
be  more  than  enough  traffic  for  one." 

Slater  nodded.  "  Every  man  who  has  two  dollars, 
a  clean  shirt,  and  a  friend  at  Washington  has  got  a 
railroad  scheme  up  his  sleeve." 

"It  will  cost  thirty  million  dollars  to  build  across 
those  three  divides  and  into  the  copper  country. 
When  the  road  is  done  it  will  be  one  of  heavy  grades, 
and—" 

"No  wonder  you  didn't  get  the  contract  from 
the  Heidlemanns  —  if  your  estimate  was  thirty 
million." 

"I  didn't  put  in  a  figure." 

Tom  looked  surprised.  "Why  didn't  you?  You 
know  them." 

"I  was  like  the  little  boy  who  didn't  go  to  the 
party — I  wasn't  asked."  The  speaker's  expression 
showed  that  his  pride  had  been  hurt  and  discouraged 
further  questioning.  "Well  hire  our  men  and  our 
boats  to-night,"  he  announced.  "I've  arranged  for 
that  freighter  to  drop  us  off  at  Omar  on  her  way  out. 
We'll  have  to  row  from  there  to  Kyak.  I  expected 
to  land  my  horses  at  the  coast  and  pack  in  from 
Kyak  Bay,  but  that  shipwreck  changed  my  plans. 
Poor  brutes!  After  my  experience  I'll  never  swim 
horses  in  this  water  again." 

An  eleven-o'clock  twilight  enveloped  Cortez  when 
the  two  men  landed,  but  the  town  was  awake.  The 
recent  railway  and  mining  activity  in  the  neighbor 
hood  had  brought  a  considerable  influx  of  people  to 
King  Phillip  Sound,  and  the  strains  of  music  from 
dance-hall  doors,  the  click  of  checks  and  roulette 

62 


CURTIS  GORDON  AND  OTHERS 

balls  from  the  saloons,  gave  evidence  of  an  unusual 
prosperity. 

O'Neil  had  no  difficulty  in  securing  men.  Once 
he  was  recognized,  the  scenes  at  Hope  were  re- 
enacted,  and  there  was  a  general  scramble  to  enlist 
upon  his  pay-roll.  Within  an  hour,  therefore,  his 
arrangements  were  made,  and  he  and  Tom  repaired 
to  Callahan's  Hotel  for  a  few  hours'  sleep. 

A  stud  game  was  going  on  in  the  barroom  when 
they  entered,  and  O'Neil  paused  to  watch  it  while 
Slater  spoke  to  one  of  the  players,  a  clean-cut,  blond 
youth  of  whimsical  countenance.  When  the  two 
friends  finally  faced  the  bar  for  their  "nightcap" 
Tom  explained : 

"That's  Appleton,  the  fellow  Gordon  fired  to-day. 
I  told  him  I'd  left  the  old  man  flat." 

"  Is  he  a  friend  of  yours  ?" 

"Sure.     Nice  boy — good  engineer,  too." 

' '  Umph !     That  game  is  crooked. ' ' 

"No?"   "Happy  Tom  "displayed  a  flash  of  interest. 

* '  Yes,  Cortez  is  fast  becoming  a  metropolis,  I  see. 
The  man  in  the  derby  hat  is  performing  a  little  feat 
that  once  cost  me  four  thousand  dollars  to  learn." 

"I'd  better  split  Dan  away,"  said  Tom,  hastily. 

"Wait!  Education  is  a  good  thing,  even  if  it  is 
expensive  at  times.  I  fancy  your  friend  is  bright 
enough  to  take  care  of  himself.  Let's  wait  a  bit." 

"Ain't  that  just  my  blamed  luck?"  lamented 
Slater.  "Now  if  they  were  playing  faro  I  could 
make  a  killing.  I'd  'copper'  Appleton's  bets  and 
'open'  the  ones  he  coppered!" 

O'Neil  smiled,  for  "Happy  Tom's"  caution  in 
money  matters  was  notorious.  "You  know  you 
don't  believe  in  gambling,"  he  said. 

63 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"It's  not  a  belief,  it's  a  disease,"  declared  the  fat 
man.  ' '  I  was  born  to  be  a  gambler,  but  the  business 
is  too  uncertain.  Now  that  I'm  getting  "so  old  and 
feeble  I  can't  work  any  more,  I'd  take  it  up,  only  I 
broke  three  fingers  and  when  I  try  to  deal  I  drop 
the  cards.  What  are  we  going  to  do?" 

"Just  wait,"  said  O'Neil. 


VI 

THE   DREAMER 

UNOBSERVED  the  two  friends  watched  the 
poker  game,  which  for  a  time  proceeded 
quietly.  But  suddenly  they  saw  Appleton  lean  over 
the  table  and  address  the  man  with  the  derby  hat; 
then,  thrusting  back  his  chair,  he  rose,  declaring,  in  a 
louder  tone: 

"I  tell  you  I  saw  it.  I  thought  I  was  mistaken 
at  first."  His  face  was  white,  and  he  disregarded 
the  efforts  of  his  right-hand  neighbor  to  quiet  him. 

''Don't  squeal,"  smiled  the  dealer.  "I'll  leave  it 
to  the  boys  if  I  did  anything  wrong." 

"You  pulled  that  king  from  the  bottom.  It  may 
not  be  wrong,  but  it's  damned  peculiar." 

' '  Forget  it ! "  one  of  the  others  exclaimed .  ' '  Denny 
wouldn't  double-cross  you." 

"Hardly!"  agreed  Mr.  Denny,  evenly.  "You're 
'in'  a  hundred  and  eighty  dollars,  but  if  you're  sore 
you  can  have  it  back." 

Appleton  flung  his  cards  into  the  middle  of  the 
table  and  turned  away  disgustedly.  "It's  a  hard 
thing  to  prove,  and  I'm  not  absolutely  sure  I  saw 
straight,  or — I'd  take  it  back,  fast  enough." 

Denny  shrugged  and  gathered  in  the  discarded 
hand.  "You've  been  drinking  too  much,  that's  all. 
Your  eyesight  is  scattered." 

65 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

Appleton's  face  flushed  as  he  beheld  the  gaze  of 
the  company  upon  him  and  heard  the  laughter  which 
greeted  this  remark.  He  turned  to  leave  when 
O'Neil,  who  had  continued  to  watch  the  proceedings 
with  interest,  crossed  to  the  group  and  touched 
Denny  on  the  shoulder,  saying,  quietly : 

"Give  him  his  money.*' 

1  'Eh?"  The  smile  faded  from  the  fellow's  face; 
he  looked  up  with  startled  inquiry.  "What?" 

"Give  him  his  money." 

In  the  momentary  hush  which  followed,  "Happy 
Tom"  Slater,  who  had  frequently  seen  his  employer 
in  action  and  understood  storm  signals,  sighed 
deeply  and  reached  for  the  nearest  chair.  With  a 
wrench  of  his  powerful  hands  he  loosened  a  leg. 
Although  Mr.  Slater  abhorred  trouble,  he  was  accus 
tomed  to  meet  it  philosophically.  A  lifetime  spent 
in  construction  camps  had  taught  him  that,  of  all 
weapons,  the  one  best  suited  to  his  use  was  a  pick- 
handle;  second  to  that  he  had  come  to  value  the 
hardwood  leg  of  a  chair.  But  in  the  present  case 
his  precaution  proved  needless,  for  the  dispute  was 
over  before  he  had  fairly  prepared  himself. 

Without  waiting  for  O'Neil  to  put  his  accusation 
into  words  Denny  had  risen  swiftly,  and  in  doing 
so  he  had  either  purposely  or  by  accident  made  a 
movement  which  produced  a  prompt  and  instinctive 
reaction.  Murray's  fist  met  him  as  he  rose,  met 
him  so  squarely  and  with  such  force  that  he  lost 
all  interest  in  what  followed.  The  other  card- 
players  silently  gathered  Mr.  Denny  in  their  arms 
and  stretched  him  upon  a  disused  roulette  table; 
the  bartender  appeared  with  a  wet  towel  and  began 
to  bathe  his  temples. 

66 


THE    DREAMER 

Appleton,  dazed  by  the  suddenness  of  it  all,  found 
a  stack  of  gold  pieces  in  his  hand  and  heard  O'Neil 
saying  in  an  every-day  tone: 

"Come  to  my  room,  please.  I'd  like  to  talk 
to  you."  Something  commanding  in  the  speaker's 
face  made  the  engineer  follow  against  his  will.  He 
longed  to  loiter  here  until  Denny  had  regained  his 
senses — but  O'Neil  had  him  by  the  arm  and  a 
moment  later  he  was  being  led  down  the  hall  away 
from  the  lobby  and  the  barroom.  As  Slater,  who 
had  followed,  closed  the  door  behind  them,  Dan 
burst  forth : 

"By  Jove!  Why  didn't  you  tell  me?  I  knew 
he  was  crooked — but  I  couldn't  believe — " 

"Sit  down!"  said  O'Neil.  "He  won't  pull  himself 
together  for  a  while,  and  I  want  to  get  to  bed.  Are 
you  looking  for  a  job?" 

The  engineer's  eyes  opened  wide. 

"Yes."  ™  -     ^ 

"Do  you  know  the  Kyak  country?" 

"Pretty  well." 

"I  need  a  surveyor.  Your  wages  will  be  the  same 
that  Gordon  paid  and  they  begin  now,  if  it's  agree 
able." 

"It  certainly  is!" 

"Good!  We'll  leave  at  six  o'clock,  sharp.  Bring 
your  bedding  and  instruments." 

"Thanks!  I —  This  is  a  bit  of  a  surprise.  Who 
are  you?" 

"I'm  O'Neil." 

"  Oh ! "  Mr.  Appleton 's  expression  change d  quickly . 
"You're  Murray — "  He  stammered  an  instant. 
"It  was  very  good  of  you  to  take  my  part,  after  I'd 
been  fool  enough  to — " 

67 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"Well — I  didn't  want  to  see  you  make  a  total 
idiot  of  yourself." 

The  young  man  flushed  slightly,  then  in  a  quieter 
voice,  he  asked: 

"How  did  you  know  I  was  out  of  work?" 

"Mr.  Gordon  told  me.  He  recommended  you 
highly." 

"He  did?" 

"He  said  you  were  unreliable,  disloyal,  and  dis 
honest.  Coming  from  him  I  took  that  as  high 
praise." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  then  Appleton 
laughed  boyishly. 

"That's  funny!  I'm  very  glad  to  know  you, 
Mr.  O'Neil." 

"You  don't,  and  you  won't  for  a  long  time.  Tom 
tells  me  you  didn't  think  well  of  Gordon's  enter 
prise  and  so  he  fired  you." 

"That's  right!  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  kept 
my  mouth  shut,  but  it  has  a  way  of  flying  open  when 
it  shouldn't.  He  is  either  a  fool  or  a  crook,  and  his 
mine  is  nothing  but  a  prospect.  I  couldn't  resist 
telling  him  so." 

"And  his  railroad?" 

Appleton  hesitated.  "Oh,  it's  as  good  a  route 
as  the  Trust's.  I  worked  on  the  two  surveys. 
Personally  I  think  both  outfits  are  crazy  to  try  to 
build  in  from  here.  I  had  to  tell  Gordon  that,  too. 
You  see  I'm  a  volunteer  talker.  I  should  have  been 
born  with  a  stutter — it  would  have  saved  me  a  lot 
of  trouble." 

O'Neil  smiled.  "You  may  talk  all  you  please 
in  my  employ,  so  long  as  you  do  your  work.  Now 
get  some  sleep,  for  we  have  a  hard  trip.  And  by 

68 


THE    DREAMER 

the  way" — the  youth  paused  with  a  hand  on  the 
doorknob — "don't  go  looking  for  Denny." 

Apple  ton's  face  hardened  stubbornly. 

"I  can't  promise  that,  sir." 

"Oh  yes  you  can!  You  must!  Remember, 
you're  working  for  me,  and  you're  under  orders. 
I  can't  have  the  expedition  held  up  on  your  ac 
count." 

The  engineer's  voice  was  heavy  with  disappoint 
ment,  but  a  vague  admiration  was  growing  in  his 
eyes  as  he  agreed : 

"Very  well,  sir.  I  suppose  my  time  is  yours. 
Good  night!" 

When  he  had  gone  "Happy  Tom"  inquired: 

'  *  Now,  why  in  blazes  did  you  hire  him  ?  We  don't 
need  a  high-priced  surveyor  on  this  job." 

"Of  course  not,  but  don't  you  see?  He'd  have 
been  arrested,  sure.  Besides — he's  Irish,  and  I  like 
him." 

"Humph!  Then  I  s'pose  he's  got  a  job  for  life," 
said  Tom,  morosely.  "You  make  friends  and 
enemies  quicker  than  anybody  I  ever  saw.  You've 
got  Curtis  Gordon  on  your  neck  now." 

"On  account  of  this  boy?     Nonsense!" 

"Not  altogether.  Denny  is  Gordon's  right  bower. 
I  think  he  calls  him  his  secretary;  anyhow,  he  does 
Gordon's  dirty  work  and  they're  thicker  than  fleas. 
First  you  come  along  and  steal  me,  underhanded, 
then  you  grab  his  pet  engineer  before  he  has  a  chance 
to  hire  him  back  again.  Just  to  top  off  the  evening 
you  publicly  brand  his  confidential  understrapper 
as  a  card  cheat  and  thump  him  on  the  medulla 
oblongata — " 

"Are  you  sure  it  wasn't  the  duodenum?" 

69 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"Well,  you  hit  him  in  a  vital  spot,  and  Gordon 
won't  forget  it." 

Late  on  the  following  morning  O' Neil's  expedition 
was  landed  at  the  deserted  fishing-station  of  Omar, 
thirty  miles  down  the  sound  from  Cortez.  From 
this  point  its  route  lay  down  the  bay  to  open  water 
and  thence  eastward  along  the  coast  in  front  of  the 
Salmon  River  delta  some  forty  miles  to  Kyak.  This 
latter  stretch  would  have  been  well-nigh  impossible 
for  open  boats  but  for  the  fact  that  the  numerous  mud 
bars  and  islands  thrown  out  by  the  river  afforded  a 
sheltered  course.  These  inside  channels,  though  shal 
low,  were  of  sufficient  depth  to  allow  small  craft  to 
navigate  and  had  long  been  used  as  a  route  to  the 
coal-fields. 

Appleton,  smiling  and  cheerful,  was  the  first  mem 
ber  of  the  party  to  appear  at  the  dock  that  morning, 
and  when  the  landing  had  been  effected  at  Omar  he 
showed  his  knowledge  of  the  country  by  suggesting 
a  short  cut  which  would  save  the  long  row  down  to 
the  mouth  of  the  sound  and  around  into  the  delta. 
Immediately  back  of  the  old  cannery,  which  occupied 
a  gap  in  the  mountain  rim,  lay  a  narrow  lake,  and 
this,  he  declared,  held  an  outlet  which  led  into  the 
Salmon  River  flats.  By  hauling  the  boats  over  into 
this  body  of  water — a  task  made  easy  by  the  presence 
of  a  tiny  tramway  with  one  dilapidated  push-car 
which  had  been  a  part  of  the  cannery  equipment — 
it  would  be  possible  to  save  much  time  and  labor. 

"I've  heard  there  was  a  way  through,"  O'Neil 
confessed,  "but  nobody  seemed  to  know  just  where 
it  was." 

"I  know,"  the  young  man  assured  him.  "We  can 
gain  a  day  at  least,  and  I  judge  every  day  is  valuable, " 

70 


THE    DREAMER 

"So  valuable  that  we  can't  afford  to  lose  one  by 
making  a  mistake,"  said  his  employer,  meaningly. 

"Leave  it  to  me.  I  never  forget  a  country  once 
I've  been  through  it." 

Accordingly  the  boats  were  loaded  upon  the  hand 
car  and  transferred  one  at  a  time.  In  the  interval 
O'Neil  examined  his  surroundings  casually.  He 
was  surprised  to  find  the  dock  and  buildings  in  excel 
lent  condition,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the 
station  had  lain  idle  for  several  years.  A  solitary 
Norwegian,  with  but  a  slight  suspicion  of  English, 
was  watching  the  premises  and  managed  to  make 
known  his  impression  that  poor  fishing  had  led  the 
owners  to  abandon  operations  at  this  point.  He, 
too,  had  heard  that  Omar  Lake  had  an  outlet  into 
the  delta,  but  he  was  not  sure  of  its  existence ;  he  was 
sure  of  nothing,  in  fact,  except  that  it  was  very  lone 
some  here,  and  that  he  had  run  out  of  tobacco  five 
days  before. 

But  Dan  Applet  on  was  not  mistaken.  A  two 
hours'  row  across  the  mirror-like  surface  of  Omar 
Lake  brought  the  party  out  through  a  hidden  gap  in 
the  mountains  and  afforded  them  a  view  across  the 
level  delta.  To  their  left  the  range  they  had  just 
penetrated  retreated  toward  the  canon  where  the 
Salmon  River  burst  its  way  out  from  the  interior, 
and  beyond  that  point  it  continued  in  a  coastward 
swing  to  Kyak,  their  destination.  Between  lay  a 
flat,  trackless  tundra,  cut  by  sloughs  and  glacial 
streams,  with  here  and  there  long  tongues  of  timber 
reaching  down  from  the  high  ground  and  dwindling 
away  toward  the  seaward  marshes.  It  was  a 
desolate  region,  the  breeding-place  of  sea  fowl,  the 
hunting-ground  for  the  great  brown  bear. 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

O'Neil  had  never  before  been  so  near  the  canon 
as  this,  and  the  wild  stories  he  had  heard  of  it 
recurred  to  him  with  interest.  He  surveyed  the 
place  curiously  as  the  boats  glided  along,  but  could 
see  nothing  more  than  a  jumble  of  small  hills  and 
buttes,  and  beyond  them  the  dead-gray  backs  of  the 
twin  glaciers  coming  down  from  the  slopes  to  east 
and  west.  Beyond  the  foot-hills  and  the  glaciers 
themselves  the  main  range  was  gashed  by  a  deep 
valley,  through  which  he  judged  the  river  must 
come,  and  beyond  that  he  knew  was  a  country  of 
agricultural  promise,  extending  clear  to  the  fabulous 
copper  belt  whither  the  railroads  from  Cortez  were 
headed.  Still  farther  inland  lay  the  Tanana,  and 
then  the  Yukon,  with  their  riches  untouched. 

What  a  pity,  what  a  mockery,  it  was  that  this 
obvious  entrance  to  the  country  had  been  blocked 
by  nature!  Just  at  his  back  was  Omar,  with  its 
deep  and  sheltered  harbor;  the  lake  he  had  crossed 
gave  a  passage  through  the  guardian  range,  and  this 
tundra — O'Neil  estimated  that  he  could  lay  a  mile 
of  track  a  day  over  it — led  right  up  to  the  glaciers. 
Once  through  the  Coast  Range,  building  would  be 
easy,  for  the  upper  Salmon  was  navigable,  and  its 
banks  presented  no  difficulties  to  track-laying. 

He  turned  abruptly  to  Applet  on,  who  was  pulling 
an  oar. 

''What  do  you  know  about  that  canon?"  he 
asked. 

"Not  much.  Nobody  knows  much,  for  those 
fellows  who  went  through  in  the  gold  rush  have  all 
left  the  country.  Gordon's  right-of-way  comes  in 
above,  and  so  does  the  Trust's.  From  there  on  I 
know  every  foot  of  the  ground." 

72 


THE    DREAMER 

"I  suppose  if  either  of  them  gets  through  to  the 
Salmon  the  rest  will  be  easy." 

' 'Dead  easy!" 

"It  would  be  shorter  and  very  much  cheaper  to 
build  from  Omar,  through  this  way." 

' '  Of  course,  but  neither  outfit  knew  anything  about 
the  outlet  to  Omar  Lake  until  I  told  them — and  they 
knew  there  was  the  canon  to  be  reckoned  with." 

"Well?" 

Appleton  shook  his  head.  "Look  at  it!  Does  it 
look  like  a  place  to  build  a  railroad?" 

"I  can't  tell  anything  about  it,  from  here." 

"I  suppose  a  road  could  be  built  if  the  glaciers 
were  on  the  same  side  of  the  river,  but — they're 
not.  They  face  each  other,  and  they're  alive,  too. 
Listen!"  The  oarsmen  ceased  rowing  at  Dan's  sig 
nal,  and  out  of  the  northward  silence  came  a  low 
rumble  like  the  sound  of  distant  cannonading. 
"We  must  be  at  least  twenty  miles  away,  in  an  air 
line.  The  ice  stands  up  alongside  the  river,  hun 
dreds  of  feet  high,  and  it  breaks  off  in  chunks  as 
big  as  a  New  York  office-building." 

"You've  been  up  there?" 

"No.  But  everybody  says  so,  and  I've  seen 
glacier  ice  clear  out  here  in  the  delta.  They're 
always  moving,  too — the  glaciers  themselves — and 
they're  filled  with  crevasses,  so  that  it's  dangerous 
to  cross  them  on  foot  even  if  one  keeps  back  from 
the  river." 

"How  did  those  men  get  their  outfits  through  in 
'98?"  O'Neil  queried. 

"I'm  blessed  if  I  know — maybe  they  flew." 
After  a  moment  Dan  added,  "Perhaps  they  dodged 
the  pieces  as  they  fell." 

6  73 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

O'Neil  smiled.  He  opened  his  lips  to  speak,  then 
closed  them,  and  for  a  long  time  kept  his  eyes  fixed 
speculatively  in  the  direction  of  the  canon.  When 
he  had  first  spoken  of  a  route  from  Omar  he  had 
thrown  out  the  suggestion  with  only  a  casual  interest. 
Now,  suddenly,  the  idea  took  strong  possession  of  his 
mind;  it  fascinated  him  with  its  daring,  its  bigness. 
He  had  begun  to  dream. 

The  world  owes  all  great  achievements  to  dreamers, 
for  men  who  lack  vivid  imaginations  are  incapable 
of  conceiving  big  enterprises.  No  matter  how  prac 
tical  the  thing  accomplished,  it  requires  this  faculty, 
no  less  than  a  poem  or  a  picture.  Every  bridge, 
every  skyscraper,  every  mechanical  invention,  every 
great  work  which  man  has  wrought  in  steel  and  stone 
and  concrete,  was  once  a  dream. 

O'Neil  had  no  small  measure  of  the  imaginative 
power  that  makes  great  leaders,  great  inventors, 
great  builders.  He  was  capable  of  tremendous 
enthusiasm ;  his  temperament  forever  led  him  to  dare 
what  others  feared  to  undertake.  And  here  he 
glimpsed  a  tremendous  opportunity.  The  traffic  of 
a  budding  nation  was  waiting  to  be  seized.  To  him 
who  gained  control  of  Alaskan  transportation  would 
come  the  domination  of  her  resources.  Many  were 
striving  for  the  prize,  but  if  there  should  prove  to 
be  a  means  of  threading  that  Salmon  River  canon 
with  steel  rails,  the  man  who  first  found  it  would 
have  those  other  railroad  enterprises  at  his  mercy. 
The  Trust  would  have  to  sue  for  terms  or  abandon 
further  effort ;  for  this  route  was  shorter,  it  was  level, 
it  was  infinitely  cheaper  to  improve.  The  stakes 
in  the  game  were  staggering.  The  mere  thought 
of  them  made  his  heart  leap.  The  only  obstacle,  of 

74 


THE    DREAMER 

course,  lay  in  those  glaciers,  and  he  began  to  wonder 
if  they  could  not  be  made  to  open.  Why  not?  No 
one  knew  positively  that  they  were  impregnable,  for 
no  one  knew  anything  certainly  about  them.  Until 
the  contrary  had  been  proven  there  was  at  least  a 
possibility  that  they  were  less  formidable  than 
rumor  had  painted  them. 

Camp  was  pitched  late  that  night  far  out  on  the 
flats.  During  the  preparation  of  supper  Murray  sat 
staring  fixedly  before  him,  deaf  to  all  sounds  and  in 
sensible  to  the  activities  of  his  companions.  He  had 
lost  his  customary  breeziness  and  his  good  nature; 
he  was  curt,  saturnine,  unsmiling.  Appleton  under 
took  to  arouse  him  from  this  abstraction,  but  Slater 
drew  the  young  man  aside  hurriedly  with  a  warning, 

"  Don't  do  that,  son,  or  you'll  wear  splints  for  the 
rest  of  the  trip." 

''What's  the  matter  with  him,  anyhow?"  Dan 
inquired.  "He  was  boiling  over  with  enthusiasm  all 
day,  but  now—  Why,  he's  asleep  sitting  up!  He 
hasn't  moved  for  twenty  minutes." 

Tom  shook  his  head,  dislodging  a  swarm  of 
mosquitoes. 

1 '  Walk  on  your  toes,  my  boy !  Walk  on  your  toes ! 
I  smell  something  cooking — and  it  ain't  supper." 

When  food  was  served  O'Neil  made  a  pretense 
of  eating,  but  rose  suddenly  in  the  midst  of  it,  with 
the  words: 

"I'll  stretch  my  legs  a  bit."  His  voice  was 
strangely  listless;  in  his  eyes  was  the  same  abstrac 
tion  which  had  troubled  Appleton  during  the  after 
noon.  He  left  the  camp  and  disappeared  up  the 
bank  of  the  stream. 

"Nice  place  to  take  a  walk!"  the  engineer  ob- 

75 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

served.  "He'll  bog  down  in  half  a  mile  or  get  lost 
among  the  sloughs." 

"Not  him!"  said  Slater.  Nevertheless,  his  wor 
ried  eyes  followed  the  figure  of  his  chief  as  long  as  it 
was  in  sight.  After  a  time  he  announced:  "Some 
thing  is  coming,  but  what  it  is  or  where  it's  going  to 
hit  us  I  don't  know." 

Their  meal  over,  the  boatmen  made  down  their 
beds,  rolled  up  in  their  blankets,  and  were  soon  asleep. 
Appleton  and  Tom  sat  in  the  smoke  of  a  smudge, 
gossiping  idly  as  the  twilight  approached.  From 
the  south  came  the  distant  voice  of  the  sea,  out  of 
the  north  rolled  the  intermittent  thunder  of  those 
falling  bergs,  from  every  side  sounded  a  harsh  chorus 
of  water-fowl.  Ducks  whirred  past  in  bullet-like 
flight,  honkers  flapped  heavily  overhead,  a  pair  of 
magnificent  snow-white  swans  soared  within  easy 
gunshot  of  the  camp.  An  hour  passed,  another,  and 
another;  the  arctic  night  descended.  And  through 
it  all  the  mosquitoes  sang  their  blood  song  and 
stabbed  the  watchers  with  tongues  of  flame. 

"Happy  Tom"  sang  his  song,  too,  for  it  was  not 
often  that  he  obtained  a  listener,  and  it  proved  to  be 
a  song  of  infinite  hard  luck.  Mr.  Slater,  it  seemed, 
was  a  creature  of  many  ills,  the  wretched  abiding- 
place  of  aches  and  pains,  of  colics,  cramps,  and 
rheumatism.  He  was  the  target  of  misfortune  and 
the  sport  of  fate.  His  body  was  the  galloping-ground 
of  strange  disorders  which  baffled  diagnosis;  his 
financial  affairs  were  dominated  by  an  evil  genius 
which  betrayed  him  at  every  turn.  To  top  it  all,  he 
suffered  at  the  moment  a  violent  attack  of  indiges 
tion. 

"Ain't  that  just  my  luck?"  he  lamented.  "Old 

76 


THE    DREAMER 

'Indy's'  got  me  good,  and  there  ain't  a  bit  of  soda 
in  the  outfit." 

Applet  on,  who  was  growing  more  and  more  uneasy 
at  the  absence  of  his  leader,  replied  with  some 
asperity : 

"  Instead  of  dramatizing  your  own  discomforts 
you'd  better  be  thinking  of  the  boss.  I'm  going  out 
to  look  for  him." 

"Now  don't  be  a  dam'  fool,"  Slater  advised.  "It 
would  be  worth  a  broken  leg  to  annoy  him  when 
he's  in  one  of  these  fits.  You'd  make  yourself  as 
popular  as  a  smallpox  patient  at  a  picnic.  When 
he's  dreamed  his  dream  he'll  be  back." 

"When  will  that  be?" 

"No  telling — maybe  to-night,  maybe  to-morrow 
night." 

"And  what  are  we  going  to  do  in  the  mean  time?" 

"Sit  tight."  Mr.  Slater  chewed  steadily  and 
sighed.  "No  soda  in  camp,  and  this  gum  don't 
seem  to  lay  hold  of  me!  That's  luck!" 

Darkness  had  settled  when  O'Neil  reappeared. 
He  came  plunging  out  of  the  brush,  drenched,  muddy, 
stained  by  contact  with  the  thickets ;  but  his  former 
mood  had  disappeared  and  in  its  place  was  a  harsh, 
explosive  energy. 

"Tom!"  he  cried.  "You  and  Apple  ton  and  I  will 
leave  at  daylight.  The  men  will  wait  here  until  we 
get  back."  His  voice  was  incisive,  its  tone  forbade 
question. 

The  youthful  engineer  stared  at  him  in  dismay,  for 
only  his  anxiety  had  triumphed  over  his  fatigue,  and 
daylight  was  but  four  hours  away.  O'Neil  noted 
the  expression,  and  said,  more  gently: 

"You're  tired  Appleton,  I  know,  but  in  working 

77 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

for  me  you'll  be  called  upon  for  extraordinary  effort 
now  and  then.  I  may  not  demand  more  than  an 
extra  hour  from  you;  then  again  I  may  demand  a 
week  straight  without  sleep.  I'll  never  ask  it  unless 
it's  necessary  and  unless  I'm  ready  to  do  my  share." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"The  sacrifice  is  big,  but  the  pay  is  bigger.  Loy 
alty  is  all  I  require." 

"I'm  ready  now,  sir." 

"We  can't  see  to  travel  before  dawn.  Help  Tom 
load  the  lightest  boat  with  rations  for  five  days. 
If  we  run  short  we'll  'Si wash'  it."  He  kicked  off 
his  rubber  boots,  up-ended  them  to  drain  the  water 
out,  then  flung  himself  upon  his  bed  of  boughs  and 
was  asleep  almost  before  the  two  had  recovered  from 
their  surprise. 

"Five  days — or  longer!"  Slater  said,  gloomily,  as 
he  and  Dan  began  their  preparations.  "And  me 
with  indigestion!" 

"What  does  it  mean?"  queried  Appleton. 

"It  means  I'll  probably  succumb." 

"No,  no!  What's  the  meaning  of  this  change  of 
plan?  I  can't  understand  it." 

"You  don't  need  to,"  "Happy  Tom"  informed 
him,  curtly.  There  was  a  look  of  solicitude  in  his 
face  as  he  added,  "I  wish  I'd  made  him  take  off 
his  wet  clothes  before  he  went  to  sleep." 

"Let's  wake  him  up." 

But  Slater  shook  his  head.  "I'd  sooner  wake  a 
rattlesnake,"  said  he. 

O'Neil  roused  the  members  of  his  expedition  while 
the  sky  was  reddening  faintly,  for  he  had  a  mind 
which  worked  like  an  alarm  -  clock.  All  except 
Appleton  had  worked  for  him  before,  and  the  men 

78 


THE    DREAMER 

accepted  his  orders  to  await  his  return  with  no 
appearance  of  surprise. 

With  the  first  clear  light  he  and  his  two  companions 
set  out,  rowing  up  the  estuary  of  the  Salmon  until 
the  current  became  too  swift  to  stem  in  that  manner. 
Then  landing,  they  rigged  a  ''bridle"  for  the  skiff, 
fitted  their  shoulders  to  loops  in  a  ninety-foot  tow 
rope,  and  began  to  "track"  their  craft  up  against 
the  stream.  It  was  heartbreaking  work.  Frequently 
they  were  waist  -  deep  in  the  cold  water.  Long 
"sweepers"  with  tips  awash  in  the  flood  interfered 
with  their  efforts.  The  many  branches  of  the  stream 
forced  them  to  make  repeated  crossings,  for  the 
delta  was  no  more  than  an  endless  series  of  islands 
through  which  the  current  swirled.  When  dusk 
overtook  them  they  were  wet,  weary,  and  weak  from 
hunger.  With  the  dawn  they  were  up  and  at  it 
again,  but  their  task  became  constantly  more  difficult 
because  of  the  floating  glacier  ice,  which  increased 
with  every  mile.  They  were  obliged  to  exercise  the 
extremest  caution.  Hour  after  hour  they  strained 
against  the  current,  until  the  ropes  bit  into  their 
aching  flesh,  bringing  raw  places  out  on  neck  and 
palm.  Hour  after  hour  the  ice,  went  churning  past, 
and  through  it  all  came  the  intermittent  echo  of 
the  caving  glaciers  ahead  of  them. 

Dan  Appleton  realized  very  soon  whither  the 
journey  was  leading,  and  at  thought  of  actually 
facing  those  terrors  which  loomed  so  large  in  con 
jecture  his  pulses  began  to  leap.  He  had  a  sus 
picion  of  O'Neil's  intent,  but  dared  not  voice  it. 
Though  the  scheme  seemed  mad  enough,  its  very 
audacity  fascinated  him.  It  would  be  worth  while 
to  take  part  in  such  an  undertaking,  even  if  it  ended 

79 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

in  failure.  And  somehow,  against  his  judgment,  he 
felt  that  his  leader  would  find  a  way. 

For  the  most  part,  O'Neil  was  as  silent  as  a  man 
of  stone,  and  only  on  those  rare  occasions  when 
he  craved  relief  from  his  thoughts  did  he  encourage 
Dan  to  talk.  Then  he  sometimes  listened,  but  more 
frequently  he  did  not.  Slater  had  long  since  become 
a  dumb  draught  animal,  senseless  to  discomfort 
except  in  the  hour  of  relaxation  when  he  monoto 
nously  catalogued  his  ills. 

"Are  you  a  married  man?"  O'Neil  inquired  once 
of  Dan. 

"Not  yet,  sir." 

"Family?" 

"Sure!  A  great  big,  fine  one,  consisting  of  a  sister. 
But  she's  more  than  a  family — she's  a  religion." 
Receiving  encouragement  from  his  employer's  look 
of  interest,  he  continued:  "We  were  wiped  out  by 
the  San  Francisco  earthquake,  and  stood  in  the 
bread  line  for  a  while.  We  managed  to  save  four 
thousand  dollars  from  the  wreck,  which  we  divided 
equally.  Then  we  started  out  to  make  our  fortunes. 
It  was  her  idea." 

"You  came  to  Cortez?" 

"Yes.  Money  was  so  easy  for  me  that  I  lost  all 
respect  for  it.  The  town  rang  with  my  mirth  for 
a  while.  I  was  an  awful  fool." 

"Education!" 

"Now  it's  my  ambition  to  get  settled  and  have 
her  with  me.  I  haven't  had  a  good  laugh,  a  hearty 
meal,  or  a  Christian  impulse  since  I  left  her." 

"What  did  she  do  with  her  half  of  the  fortune?" 

"Invested  it  wisely  and  went  to  work.  I  bought 
little  round  celluloid  disks  with  mine;  she  bought 

80 


THE    DREAMER 

land  of  some  sort  with  hers.  She's  a  newspaper 
woman,  and  the  best  in  the  world— or  at  least 
the  best  in  Seattle.  She  wrote  that  big  snow-slide 
story  for  The  Review  last  fall.  She  tells  'em  how 
to  raise  eight  babies  on  seven  dollars  a  week,  or  how 
to  make  a  full  set  of  library  furniture  out  of  three 
beer  kegs,  a  packing-case,  and  an  epileptic  icebox. 
She  runs  the  *  Domestic  Economy '  column ;  and  she's 
the  sweetest,  the  cleverest,  the  most  stunning— 

Appleton's  enthusiastic  tribute  ceased  suddenly, 
for  he  saw  that  O'Neil  was  once  more  deaf  and  that 
his  eyes  were  fixed  dreamily  upon  the  canon  far 
ahead. 

As  the  current  quickened  the  progress  of  the  little 
party  became  slower  and  more  exhausting.  Their 
destination  seemed  to  retreat  before  them;  the 
river  wound  back  and  forth  in  a  maddening  series  of 
detours.  Some  of  the  float  ice  was  large  now,  and 
these  pieces  rushed  down  upon  them  like  charging 
horses,  keeping  them  constantly  on  the  alert  to  pre 
vent  disaster.  It  seemed  impossible  that  such  a  flat 
country  could  afford  so  much  fall.  ''Happy  Tom" 
at  length  suggested  that  they  tie  up  and  pack  the 
remaining  miles  overland,  but  O'Neil  would  not 
hear  to  this. 

They  had  slept  so  little,  their  labors  had  been  so 
heavy,  that  they  were  dumb  and  dull  with  fatigue 
when  they  finally  reached  the  first  bluffs  and  worked 
their  boat  through  a  low  gorge  where  all  the  waters 
of  the  Salmon  thrashed  and  icebergs  galloped  past 
like  a  pallid  host  in  flight.  Here  they  paused  and 
stared  with  wondering  eyes  at  what  lay  before;  a 
chill,  damp  breath  swept  over  them,  and  a  mighty 
awe  laid  hold  of  their  hearts. 

81 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"Come  on!"  said  O'Neil.  "Other  men  have  gone 
through;  we'll  do  the  same." 

On  the  evening  of  the  sixth  day  a  splintered, 
battered  poling-boat  with  its  seams  open  swung  in  to 
the  bank  where  O'Neil's  men  were  encamped,  and 
its  three  occupants  staggered  out.  They  were  gaunt 
and  stiff  and  heavy-eyed.  Even  Tom  Slater's  full 
cheeks  hung  loose  and  flabby.  But  the  leader  was 
alert  and  buoyant;  his  face  was  calm,  his  eyes  were 
smiling  humorously. 

"You'll  take  the  men  on  to  the  coal-fields  and 
finish  the  work,"  he  told  his  boss  packer  later  that 
night.  "Appleton  and  I  will  start  back  to  Cortez 
in  the  morning.  When  you  have  finished  go  to 
Juneau  and  see  to  the  recording." 

"Ain't  that  my  luck?"  murmured  the  dyspeptic. 
"Me  for  Kyak  where  there  ain't  a  store,  and  my  gum 
all  wet." 

"Chew  it,  paper  and  all,"  advised  Appleton,  cheer 
fully. 

"Oh,  the  good  has  all  gone  out  of  it  now,"  Slater 
explained. 

"Meet  me  in  Seattle  on  the  fifteenth  of  next 
month,"  his  employer  directed. 

"I'll  be  there  if  old  'Indy'  spares  me.  But 
dyspepsia,  with  nothing  to  eat  except  beans  and 
pork  bosom,  will  probably  lay  me  in  my  grave  long 
before  the  fifteenth.  However,  I'll  do  my  best. 
Now,  do  you  want  to  know  what  I  think  of  this  prop 
osition  of  yours?"  He  eyed  his  superior  somberly. 

"Sure;  I  want  all  the  encouragement  I  can  get, 
and  your  views  are  always  inspiriting." 

"Well,  I  think  it's  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
hydrophobia.  These  mosquitoes  have  given  you  the 

82 


THE    DREAMER 

rabies  and  you  need  medical  attention.  You  need 
it  bad." 

"Still,  you'll  help  me,  won't  you?" 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Tom,  "I'll  help  you.  But  it's  a 
pity  to  see  a  man  go  mad." 


VII 

THE    DREAM 

THE  clerk  of  the  leading  hotel  in  Seattle  whirled 
his  register  about  as  a  man  deposited  a  weather- 
beaten  war-bag  on  the  marble  floor  and  leaned  over 
the  counter  to  inquire: 

"Is  Murray  O'Neil  here?" 

This  question  had  been  asked  repeatedly  within 
the  last  two  hours,  but  heretofore  by  people  totally 
different  in  appearance  from  the  one  who  spoke 
now.  The  man  behind  the  desk  measured  the 
stranger  with  a  suspicious  eye  before  answering. 
He  saw  a  ragged,  loose-hung,  fat  person  of  melan 
choly  countenance,  who  was  booted  to  the  knee 
and  ch  wing  gum. 

"Mr.  O'Neil  keeps  a  room  here  by  the  year,"  he 
replied,  guardedly. 

' ' Show  me  up !"  said  the  new-comer  as  if  advancing 
a  challenge. 

A  smart  reply  was  on  the  lips  of  the  clerk,  but 
something  in  the  other's  manner  discouraged  flip 
pancy. 

"You  are  a  friend  of  Mr.  O'Neil's?"  he  asked, 
politely. 

"Friend?  Um-m,  no!  I'm  just  him  when  he 
ain't  around."  In  a  loud  tone  he  inquired  of  the  girl 
at 'the  news-stand,  "Have  you  got  any  wintergreen 
gum?" 


THE    DREAM 

"Mr.  O'Neil  is  not  here." 

The  fat  man  stared  at  his  informant  accusingly. 
" Ain't  this  the  fifteenth?"  he  asked. 

"It  is." 

"Then  he's  here,  all  right!" 

"Mr.  O'Neil  is  not  in,"  the  clerk  repeated,  gazing 
fixedly  over  Mr.  Slater's  left  shoulder. 

"Well,  I  guess  his  room  will  do  for  me.  I  ain't 
particular." 

"His  room  is  occupied  at  present.  If  you  care 
to  wait  you  will  find — 

Precisely  what  it  was  that  he  was  to  find  Tom 
never  learned,  for  at  that  moment  the  breath  was 
driven  out  of  his  lungs  by  a  tremendous  whack,  and 
he  turned  to  behold  Dr.  Stanley  Gray  towering  over 
him,  an  expansive  smile  upon  his  face. 

"Look  out!"  Slater  coughed,  and  seized  his 
Adam's  apple.  "You  made  me  swallow  my  cud." 
The  two  shook  hands  warmly. 

"We've  been  expecting  you,  Tom,"  said  the 
Doctor.  "We're  all  here  except  Parker,  and  he 
wired  he'd  arrive  to-morrow." 

"Where's  Murray?" 

"He's  around  somewhere." 

Slater  turned  a  resentful,  smoldering  gaze  upon 
the  hotel  clerk,  and  looked  about  him  for  a  chair 
with  a  detachable  leg,  but  the  object  of  his  regard 
disappeared  abruptly  behind  the  key-rack. 

"This  rat-brained  party  said  he  hadn't  come." 

"He  arrived  this  morning,  but  we've  barely  seen 
him." 

"I  left  Appleton  in  Juneau.  He'll  be  down  on 
the  next  boat." 

"Appleton?    Who's  he?"  Dr,  Gray  inquired 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"Oh,  he's  a  new  member  of  the  order — initiated 
last  month.  He's  learning  to  be  a  sleep-hater,  like 
the  rest  of  us.  He's  recording  the  right-of-way." 

''What's  in  the  air?  None  of  us  know.  We 
didn't  even  know  Murray's  whereabouts — thought 
he  was  in  Kyak,  until  he  sounded  the  tocsin  from 
New  York.  The  other  boys  have  quit  their  jobs 
and  I've  sold  my  practice." 

"It's  a  railroad!" 

Dr.  Gray  grinned.  "Well!  That's  the  tone  I  use 
when  I  break  the  news  that  it's  a  girl  instead  of  a 
boy." 

"It's  a  railroad,"  Slater  repeated,  "up  the  Salmon 
River!" 

' '  Good  Lord !    What  about  those  glaciers  ?' ' 

"Oh,  it  ain't  so  much  the  glaciers  and  the  floating 
icebergs  and  the  raging  chasms  and  the  quaking 
tundra — Murray  thinks  he  can  overcome  them — 
it's  the  mosquitoes  and  the  Copper  Trust  that  are 
going  to  figure  in  this  enterprise.  One  of  'em  will 
be  the  death  of  me,  and  the  other  will  bust  Murray, 
if  he  don't  look  out.  Say,  my  neck  is  covered  with 
bumps  till  it  feels  like  a  dog-collar  of  seed  pearls." 

"Do  you  think  we'll  have  a  fight?"  asked  the 
doctor,  hopefully. 

"A  fight!  It  '11  be  the  worst  massacre  since  the 
Little  Big  Horn.  We're  surrounded  already,  and 
no  help  in  sight." 

O'Neil  found  his  "boys"  awaiting  him  when  he 
returned  to  his  room.  There  was  Mellen,  lean, 
gaunt  and  serious-minded,  with  the  dust  of  Chi 
huahua  still  upon  his  shoes;  there  were  McKay,  the 
superintendent,  who  had  arrived  from  California  that 
morning;  Sheldon,,  the  commissarv  man;  Elkins; 

86 


THE    DREAM 

"Doc"  Gray;  and  "Happy  Tom"  Slater.  Parker, 
the  chief  engineer,  alone  was  absent. 

"I  sent  Appleton  in  from  Cortez,"  he  told  them, 
"to  come  down  the  river  and  make  the  preliminary 
survey  into  Omar.  He  cables  me  that  he  has  filed 
his  locations  and  everything  is  O.  K.  On  my  way 
East  I  stopped  here  long  enough  to  buy  the  Omar 
cannery,  docks,  buildings,  and  town  site.  It's  all 
mine,  and  it  will  save  us  ninety  days'  work  in  getting 
started." 

"What  do  you  make  of  that  tundra  between  Omar 
and  the  canon?"  queried  McKay,  who  had  crossed 
the  Salmon  River  delta  and  knew  its  character. 
"It's  like  calf's -foot  jelly  —  a  man  bogs  down  to 
his  waist  in  it." 

"We'll  fill  and  trestle,"  said  O'Neil. 

"We  couldn't  move  a  pile-driver  twenty  feet." 

"It's  frozen  solid  in  winter." 

McKay  nodded.  "We'll  have  to  drive  steam 
points  ahead  of  every  pile,  I  suppose,  and  we'll  need 
Eskimos  to  work  in  that  cold,  but  I  guess  we  can 
manage  somehow." 

"That  country  is  like  an  apple  pie,"  said  Tom 
Slater — "it's  better  cold  than  hot.  There's  a  hun 
dred  inches  of  rainfall  at  Omar  in  summer.  We'll 
all  have  web  feet  when  we  get  out." 

Sheldon,  the  light-hearted  commissary  man,  spoke 
up.  "If  it's  as  wet  as  all  that-,  we'll  need  Finns — 
instead  of  Eskimos."  He  was  promptly  hooted  into 
silence. 

"I  understand  those  glaciers  come  down  to  the 
edge  of  the  river,"  the  superintendent  ventured. 

"They  do!"  O'Neil  acknowledged,  "and  they're 
the  liveliest  ones  I  ever  saw,  Tom  can  answer  for 

87 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

that.  One  of  them  is  fully  four  hundred  feet  high 
at  the  face  and  four  miles  across.  They're  constantly 
breaking,  too." 

"Lumps  bigger  than  this  hotel,"  supplemented 
Slater.  "It's  quite  a  sight — equal  to  anything  in 
the  state  of  Maine." 

O'Neil  laughed  with  the  others  at  this  display 
of  sectional  pride,  and  then  explained:  "The  prob 
lem  of  passing  them  sounds  difficult,  but  in  reality 
it  isn't.  If  those  other  engineers  had  looked  over 
the  ground  as  I  did,  instead  of  relying  entirely  upon 
hearsay,  we  wouldn't  be  meeting  here  to-day.  Of 
course  I  realized  that  we  couldn't  build  a  road  over 
a  moving  river  of  ice,  nor  in  front  of  one,  for  that 
matter,  but  I  discovered  that  Nature  had  made  us 
one  concession.  She  placed  her  glaciers  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  valley,  to  be  sure,  but  she  placed  the 
one  that  comes  in  from  the  east  bank  slightly  higher 
upstream  than  the  one  that  comes  in  from  the 
west.  They  don't  really  face  each  other,  although 
from  the  sea  they  appear  to  do  so.  You  see  the 
answer?"  His  hearers  nodded  vigorously.  "If  we 
cross  the  river,  low  down,  by  a  trestle,  and  run  up 
the  east  bank  past  Jackson  glacier  until  we  are 
stopped  by  Garfield — the  upper  one — then  throw  a 
bridge  directly  across,  and  back  to  the  side  we 
started  from,  we  miss  them  both  and  have  the  river 
always  between  them  and  us.  Above  the  upper 
crossing  there  will  be  a  lot  of  heavy  rock  work  to  do, 
but  nothing  unusual,  and,  once  through  the  gorge, 
we  come  out  into  the  valley,  where  the  other  roads 
run  in  from  Cortez.  They  cross  three  divides,  while 
we  run  through  on  a  one-per-cent.  grade.  That  will 
give  us  a  downhill  pull  on  all  heavy  freight." 

88 


THE    DREAM 

"Sounds  as  simple  as  a  pair  of  suspenders,  doesn't 
it?"  inquired  Slater.  ''But  wait  till  you  see  it. 
The  gorge  below  Niagara  is  stagnant  water  compared 
with  the  cataract  above  those  glaciers.  It  takes  two 
looks  to  see  the  top  of  the  mountains.  And  those 
glaciers  themselves —  Well!  Language  just  gums 
up  and  sticks  when  it  comes  to  describing  them." 

Mellen,  the  bridge-builder,  spoke  for  the  first  time, 
and  the  others  listened. 

' '  As  I  understand  it  we  will  cross  the  river  between 
the  glaciers  and  immediately  below  the  upper  one." 

"Exactly!" 

He  shook  his  head.  "We  can't  build  piers  to 
withstand  those  heavy  bergs  which  you  tell  me  are 
always  breaking  off." 

"I'll  explain  how  we  can,"  said  O'Neil.  "You've 
hit  the  bull's-eye — the  tender  spot  in  the  whole  en 
terprise.  While  the  river  is  narrow  and  rapid  in 
front  of  Jackson — the  lower  glacier — opposite  Gar- 
field  there  is  a  kind  of  lake,  formed,  I  suppose,  when 
the  glacier  receded  from  its  original  position.  Now 
then,  here  lies  the  joker,  the  secret  of  the  whole  prop 
osition.  This  lake  is  deep,  but  there  is  a  shallow 
bar  across  its  outlet  which  serves  to  hold  back  all  but 
the  small  bergs.  This  gives  us  a  chance  to  cross  in 
safety.  At  first  I  was  puzzled  to  discover  why  only 
the  ice  from  the  lower  glacier  came  down-river ;  then, 
when  I  realized  the  truth,  I  knew  I  had  the  key  to 
Alaska  in  my  hands.  We'll  cross  just  below  this 
bar.  Understand?  Of  course  it  all  depends  upon 
Parker's  verdict,  but  I'm  so  sure  his  will  agree  with 
mine  that  I've  made  my  preparations,  bought  Omar 
and  gathered  you  fellows  together.  We're  going  to 
spring  the  biggest  coup  in  railroad  history." 
7  89 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"Where's  the  money  coming  from?"  Slater  in 
quired,  bluntly. 

''I'm  putting  in  my  own  fortune." 

"How  much  is  that?  I'm  dead  to  all  sense  of 
modesty,  you  see." 

"About  a  million  dollars,"  said  O'Neil. 

"Humph!     That  won't  get  us  started." 

"I've  raised  another  million  in  New  York."  The 
chief  was  smiling  and  did  not  seem  to  resent  this 
inquisitiveness  in  the  least. 

"Nothing  but  a  shoe-string!" 

"My  dear  'Happy,' "  laughed  the  builder,  "I  don't 
intend  to  complete  the  road." 

"Then — why  in  blazes  are  you  starting  it?"  de 
manded  Slater  in  a  bewilderment  which  the  others 
evidently  shared.  "It's  one  thing  to  build  a  rail 
road  on  a  contractor's  commission,  but  it's  another 
thing  to  build  it  and  pay  your  own  way  as  you  go 
along.  Half  a  railroad  ain't  any  good." 

"Once  my  right-of-way  is  filed  it  will  put  those 
projects  from  Cortez  out  of  business.  No  one  but 
an  imbecile  would  think  of  building  in  from  there 
with  the  Omar  route  made  possible.  Before  we  come 
to  that  Salmon  River  bridge  the  Copper  Trust  will 
have  to  buy  us  out!" 

"That's  language!"  said  "Happy  Tom"  in  sudden 
admiration.  "Those  are  words  I  understand.  I 
withdraw  my  objections  and  give  my  consent  to  the 
deal." 

"You  are  staking  your  whole  fortune  on  your 
judgment,  as  I  understand  it,"  McKay  ventured. 

"Every  dollar  of  it,"  Murray  answered. 

"Say,  chief,  that's  gambling  some!"  young  Sheldon 
remarked  with  a  wondering  look. 

90 


THE    DREAM 

They  were  deep  in  their  discussion  when  the  tele 
phone  broke  in  noisily.  Sheldon,  being  nearest  to  the 
instrument,  answered  it.  "There's  a  newspaper  re 
porter  downstairs  to  interview  you,"  he  announced, 
after  an  instant. 

"I  don't  grant  interviews,"  O'Neil  said,  sharply. 
He  could  not  guess  by  what  evil  chance  the  news  of 
his  plans  had  leaked  out. 

"Nothing  doing!"  Sheldon  spoke  into  the  trans 
mitter.  He  turned  again  to  his  employer.  "Oper 
ator  says  the  party  doesn't  mind  waiting." 

O'Neil  frowned  impatiently. 

"Throw  him  out!"  Sheldon  directed,  brusquely, 
then  suddenly  dropped  the  receiver  as  if  it  had 
burnt  his  fingers.  "Hell!  It's  a  woman,  Murray! 
She's  on  the  wire.  She  thanks  you  sweetly  and  says 
she'll  wait." 

"A  woman!  A  newspaper  woman!"  O'Neil  rose 
and  seized  the  instrument  roughly.  His  voice  was 
freezing  as  he  said:  "Hello!  I  refuse  to  be  inter 
viewed.  Yes!  There's  no  use — "  His  tone  sudden 
ly  altered.  "Miss  Appleton!  I  beg  your  pardon. 
I'll  be  right  down."  Turning  to  his  subordinates, 
he  announced  with  a  wry  smile:  "This  seems  to 
terminate  our  interview.  She's  Dan  Appleton 's 
sister,  and  therefore—  He  shrugged  resignedly. 
"Now  run  along.  I'll  see  you  in  the  morn 
ing." 

His  "boys"  made  their  way  down  to  the  street, 
talking  guardedly  as  they  went.  All  were  optimis 
tic  save  Slater,  whose  face  remained  shrouded  in  its 
customary  gloom. 

"Cheer  up,  'Happy'!"  Dr.  Gray  exhorted  him. 
"It's  the  biggest  thing  we  ever  tackled." 

91 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"Wait!  Just  wait  till  you've  seen  the  place," 
Tom  said. 

"Don't  you  think  it  can  be  done?" 

"Nope!" 

"Come,  come!" 

"It's  impossible!  Of  course  we'll  do  it,  but  it's 
impossible,  just  the  same.  It  will  mean  a  scrap, 
too,  like  none  of  us  ever  saw,  and  I  was  raised  in  a 
logging-camp  where  fighting  is  the  general  recreation. 
If  I  was  young,  like  the  rest  of  you,  I  wouldn't 
mind;  but  I'm  old — and  my  digestion's  gone.  I 
can't  hardly  take  care  of  myself  any  more,  Doc. 
I'm  too  feeble  to  fight  or — "  He  signaled  a  passing 
car;  it  failed  to  stop  and  he  rushed  after  it,  dodging 
vehicles  with  the  agility  of  a  rabbit  and  swinging 
his  heavy  war-bag  as  if  it  weighed  no  more  than  a 
good  resolution. 

O'Neil  entered  the  ladies'  parlor  with  a  feeling  of 
extreme  annoyance,  expecting  to  meet  an  inquisitive, 
bold  young  woman  bent  upon  exploiting  his  plans 
and  his  personality  in  the  usual  inane  journalistic 
fashion.  He  was  surprised  and  offended  that  Dan 
Appleton,  in  whom  he  had  reposed  the  utmost  faith, 
should  have  betrayed  his  secret.  Publicity  was  a 
thing  he  detested  at  all  times,  and  at  present  he 
particularly  dreaded  its  effect.  But  he  was  agreeably 
surprised  in  the  girl  who  came  toward  him  briskly 
with  hand  outstretched. 

Miss  Appleton  was  her  brother's  double;  she  had 
his  frank  blue  eyes,  his  straw-gold  hair,  his  humorous 
smile  and  wide-awake  look.  She  was  not  by  any 
means  beautiful! — her  features  were  too  irregular, 
her  nose  too  tip-tilted,  her  mouth  too  generous  for 
that — but  she  seemed  crisp,  clean-cut,  and  wholesome* 

02 


THE    DREAM 

What  first  struck  O'Neil  was  her  effect  of  boyishness. 
From  the  crown  of  her  plain  straw  "sailor  "  to  the 
soles  of  her  sensible  walking  -  boots  there  was  no 
suggestion  of  feminine  frippery.  She  wore  a  plain 
shirtwaist  and  a  tailored  skirt,  and  her  hair  was 
arranged  simply.  The  wave  in  its  pale  gold  was 
the  only  concession  to  mere  prettiness.  Yet  she 
gave  no  impression  of  deliberate  masculinity.  She 
struck  one  as  merely  not  interested  in  clothes, 
instinctively  expressing  in  her  dress  her  own  boyish 
directness  and  her  businesslike  absorption  in  her 
work. 

"You're  furious,  of  course;  anybody  would  be/' 
she  began,  then  laughed  so  frankly  that  his  eyes 
softened  and  the  wrinkles  at  their  corners  deepened. 

' '  I  fear  I  was  rude  before  I  learned  you  were  Dan's 
sister,"  he  apologized.  "But  you  see  I'm  a  bit 
afraid  of  newspaper  people." 

"I  knew  you'd  struggle — although  Dan  described 
you  as  a  perfectly  angelic  person." 

"Indeed!" 

"But  I'm  a  real  reporter,  so  I  won't  detain  you 
long.  I  don't  care  where  you  were  born  or  where 
you  went  to  school,  or  what  patent  breakfast-food 
you  eat.  Tell  me,  are  you  going  to  build  another 
railroad?" 

"I  hope  so.  I'm  always  building  roads  when  my 
bids  are  low  enough  to  secure  the  contracts;  that's 
my  business." 

"Are  you  going  to  build  one  in  Alaska?" 

"Possibly!  There  seems  to  be  an  opportunity 
there — but  Dan  has  probably  told  you  as  much 
about  that  as  I  am  at  liberty  to  tell.  He's  been  over 
the  ground." 

93 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

She  pursed  her  lips  at  him.  "You  know  very 
well,  or  you  ought  to  know,  that  Dan  wouldn't 
tell  me  a  thing  while  he's  working  for  you.  He 
hasn't  said  a  word,  but —  Is  that  why  you  came  in 
frowning  like  a  thunder-cloud?  Did  you  think  he 
set  me  on  your  trail?" 

"I  think  I  do  know  that  he  wouldn't  do  anything 
really  indiscreet."  Murray  regarded  her  with  grow 
ing  favor.  There  was  something  about  this  boyish 
girl  which  awakened  the  same  spontaneous  liking  he 
had  felt  upon  his  first  meeting  with  her  brother. 
He  surprised  her  by  confessing  boldly: 

"I  am  building  a  railroad — to  the  interior  of 
Alaska.  I've  been  east  and  raised  the  money,  my 
men  are  here;  we'll  begin  operations  at  once." 

"That's  what  Mr.  Gordon  told  me  about  his 
scheme,  but  he  hasn't  done  much,  so  far." 

"My  line  will  put  his  out  of  business,  also  that  of 
the  Trust,  and  the  various  wildcat  promoters." 

"Where  does  your  road  start  from?" 

"The  town  of  Omar,  on  King  Phillip  Sound,  near 
Hope  and  Cortez.  It  will  run  up  the  Salmon  River 
and  past  the  glaciers  which  those  other  men  refused 
to  tackle." 

"If  I  weep,  it  is  for  joy,"  said  the  girl.  "I  don't 
like  Curtis  Gordon.  I  call  him  Simon  Legree." 

"Why?" 

"Well,  he  impresses  me  as  a  real  old-time  villain — 
with  the  riding-boots  and  the  whip  and  all  that. 
1  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin'  is  my  favorite  play,  it's  so 
funny.  This  is  a  big  story  you've  given  me,  Mr0 
O'Neil." 

"I  realize  that." 

"It  has  the  biggest  news  value  of  anything 

94 


THE   DREAM 

Alaskan  which  has  '  broken '  for  some  time.  I  think 
you  are  a  very  nice  person  to  interview,  after  all." 

"Wait!  I  don't  want  you  to  use  a  word  of  what 
I've  told  you." 

Miss  Appleton's  clearly  penciled  brows  rose 
inquiringly.  "Then  why  didn't  you  keep  still?" 

"You  asked  me.  I  told  you  because  you  are 
Dan  Appleton's  sister.  Nevertheless,  I  don't  want 
it  made  public." 

"Let's  sit  down,"  said  the  girl  with  a  laugh. 
"To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  didn't  come  here  to  inter 
view  you  for  my  paper.  I'm  afraid  I've  tried  your 
patience  awfully."  A  faint  flush  tinged  her  clear 
complexion.  "I  just  came,  really,  to  get  some  news 
of  Dan." 

"He's  perfectly  well  and  happy,  and  you'll  see 
him  in  a  few  days." 

Miss  Appleton  nodded.  "So  he  wrote,  but  I 
couldn't  wait!  Now  won't  you  tell  me  all  about 
him — not  anything  about  his  looks  and  his  health, 
but  little  unimportant  things  that  will  mean  some 
thing.  You  see,  I'm  his  mother  and  his  sister  and 
his  sweetheart." 

O'Neil  did  as  he  was  directed  and  before  long  found 
himself  reciting  the  details  of  that  trying  trip  up 
the  Salmon  River.  He  told  her  how  he  had  sent  the 
young  engineer  out  to  run  the  preliminary  survey 
for  the  new  railroad,  and  added:  "He  is  in  a  fair 
way  to  realize  his  ambition  of  having  you  with  him 
all  the  time.  I'm  sure  that  will  please  you." 

"And  it  is  my  ambition  to  make  enough  money 
to  have  him  with  me,"  she  announced.  With  an  air 
of  some  importance  she  continued:  "I'll  tell  you 
a  secret:  I'm  writing  for  the  magazines — stories!" 

95 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

She  sat  back  awaiting  his  enthusiasm.  When  she 
saw  that  it  was  not  forthcoming  she  exclaimed : ' '  My ! 
How  you  do  rave  over  the  idea!" 

"I  congratulate  you,  of  course,  but — " 

"Now  don't  tell  me  that  you  tried  it  once.  Of 
course  you  did.  I  know  it's  a  harmless  disease,  like 
the  measles,  and  that  everybody  has  it  when  they're 
young.  Above  all,  don't  volunteer  the  information 
that  your  own  lif e  is  full  of  romance  and  would  make 
a  splendid  novel.  They  all  say  that." 

Murray  O'Neil  felt  the  glow  of  personal  interest 
that  results  from  the  discovery  in  another  of  a  con 
genial  sense  of  humor. 

'  *  I  didn't  suppose  you  had  to  write, ' '  he  said.  ' '  Dan 
told  me  you  had  invested  your  fortune  and  were  on 
Easy  Street." 

"That  was  poetic  license.  I  fictionized  slightly 
in  my  report  to  him  because  I  knew  he  was  doing  so 
well." 

"Then  your  investment  didn't  turn  out  fortu 
nately?" 

Miss  Appleton  hesitated.  "You  seem  to  be  a 
kindly,  trusting  person.  I'm  tempted  to  destroy 
your  faith  in  human  nature." 

"Please  don't." 

"Yes,  I  shall.  My  experience  may  help  you  to 
avoid  the  pitfalls  of  high  finance.  Well,  then,  it  was 
a  very  sad  little  fortune,  to  begin  with,  like  a  boy 
in  grammar-school — just  big  enough  to  be  of  no  as 
sistance.  But  even  a  boy's-size  fortune  looked  big 
to  me.  I  wanted  to  invest  it  in  something  sure — 
no  national-bank  stock,  subject  to  the  danger  of  an 
absconding  cashier,  mind  you;  no  government  bonds 
with  the  possibility  of  war  to  depreciate  them;  but 

96 


THE    DREAM 

something  stable  and  agricultural,  with  the  inex 
haustible  resources  of  nature  back  of  it.  This  isn't 
my  own  language.  I  cribbed  it  from  the  apple-man." 

"Apple-man?" 

"Yes.  He  had  brown  eyes,  and  a  silky  mustache, 
and  a  big  irrigation  plan  over  east  of  the  mountains. 
You  gave  him  your  money  and  he  gave  you  a  per 
fectly  good  receipt.  Then  he  planted  little  apple 
trees.  He  nursed  them  tenderly  for  five  years,  after 
which  he  turned  them  over  to  you  with  his  blessing, 
and  you  lived  happily  for  evermore.  At  least  that 
was  the  idea.  You  couldn't  fail  to  grow  rich,  for  the 
water  always  bubbled  through  his  little  ditch  and  it 
never  froze  nor  rained  to  spoil  things.  I  used  to 
love  apples.  And  then  there  was  my  name,  which 
seemed  a  good  omen.  But  lately  I've  considered 
changing  'Appleton'  to  *  Berry '  or  Tlummer'  or  some 
other  kind  of  fruit." 

"I  infer  that  the  scheme  failed."  O'Neil's  eyes 
were  half  closed  with  amusement. 

"Yes.  It  was  a  good  scheme,  too,  except  for 
the  fact  that  the  irrigation  ditch  ran  uphill,  and  that 
there  wasn't  any  water  where  it  started  from,  and 
that  apples  never  had  been  made  to  grow  in  that 
locality  because  of  something  in  the  soil,  and  that 
Brown-eyed  Betty's  title  to  the  land  wouldn't  hold 
water  any  more  than  the  ditch.  Otherwise  I'm  sure 
he'd  have  made  a  success  and  I'd  have  spent  my 
declining  years  in  a  rocking-chair  under  the  falling 
apple  blossoms,  eating  Pippins  and  Jonathans  and 
Northern  Spies.  I  can't  bear  to  touch  them  now. 
Life  at  my  boarding-house  is  one  long  battle  against 
apple  pies,  apple  puddings,  apple  tapioca.  Ugh !  I 
hate  the  very  word." 

97 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"I  can  understand  your  aversion,"  laughed  O'Neil. 
"I  wonder  if  you  would  let  me  order  dinner  for  both 
of  us,  provided  I  taboo  fruit.  Perhaps  I'll  think  of 
something  more  to  tell  you  about  Dan.  I'm  sure  he 
wouldn't  object— 

"Oh,  my  card  is  all  the  chaperon  I  need;  it  takes 
me  everywhere  and  renders  me  superior  to  the  small 
er  conventionalities."  She  handed  him  one,  and  he 
read: 

ELIZA  V.  APPLETON 

THE  REVIEW 

"May  I  ask  what  the  'V  stands  for?"  He  held 
up  the  card  between  his  thumb  and  ringer. 

Miss  Appleton  blushed,  for  all  the  world  like  a  boy, 
then  answered,  stiffly : 

"It  stands  for  Violet.  But  that  isn't  my  fault, 
and  I'm  doing  my  best  to  live  it  down." 


VIII 

IN   WHICH   WE    COME   TO   OMAR 

APPLETON,"  said  the  editor  of  The 
Review,  "would  you  like  to  take  a  vacation?" 

"Is  that  your  delicate  way  of  telling  me  I'm 
discharged?"  inquired  Eliza. 

"You  know  very  well  we  wouldn't  fire  you.  But 
you  haven't  had  a  vacation  for  three  years,  and  you 
need  a  rest." 

"I  thought  I  was  looking  extremely  well,  for  me.*' 

"We're  going  to  send  you  on  an  assignment — to 
Alaska — if  you'll  go." 

"I'm  thinking  of  quitting  newspaper  -  work  for 
good.  The  magazines  pay  better,  and  I'm  writing 
a  book." 

"I  know.  Perhaps  this  will  just  fit  in  with  your 
plans,  for  it  has  to  do  with  your  pet  topic  of  conserva 
tion.  Those  forestry  stories  of  yours  and  the  article 
on  the  Water  Power  Combination  made  a  hit, 
didn't  they?" 

"I  judge  so.  Anyhow  the  magazine  people  want 
more." 

"Good!  Here's  your  chance  to  do  something  big 
for  yourself  and  for  us.  Those  Alaskan  coal  claim 
ants  have  been  making  a  great  effort  in  Washington 
to  rush  their  patents  through,  and  there  seems  to  be 
some  possibility  of  their  succeeding  unless  the  public 

99 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

wakes  up.  We  want  to  show  up  the  whole  fraudu 
lent  affair,  show  how  the  entries  were  illegal,  and 
how  the  agents  of  the  Trust  are  trying  to  put  over 
the  greatest  steal  of  the  century.  It's  the  Heidle- 
manns  that  are  back  of  it — and  a  few  fellows  like 
Murray  O'Neil." 

"O'Neill" 

"You  know  him,  don't  you?" 

"Yes.  I  interviewed  him  a  year  ago  last  spring, 
when  he  started  his  railroad." 

"He's  fighting  for  one  of  the  biggest  and  richest 
groups  of  claims.  He's  backed  by  some  Eastern 
people.  It's  the  psychological  moment  to  expose 
both  the  railroad  and  the  coal  situation,  for  the 
thieves  are  fighting  among  themselves — Gordon, 
O'Neil,  and  the  Heidlemanns." 

"Mr.  O'Neil  is  no  thief,"  said  the  girl,  shortly. 

"Of  course  not.  He's  merely  trying  to  snatch 
control  of  an  empire,  and  to  grab  ten  million  dollars' 
worth  of  coal,  for  nothing.  That's  not  theft,  it's 
financial  genius!  Fortunately,  however,  the  public 
is  rousing  itself — coming  to  regard  its  natural  re 
sources  as  its  own  and  not  the  property  of  the  first 
financier  who  lays  hold  of  them.  Call  it  what  you 
will,  but  give  us  the  true  story  of  the  Kyak  coal 
and,  above  all,  the  story  of  the  railroad  battle. 
Things  are  growing  bitter  up  there  already,  and 
they're  bound  to  get  rapidly  worse.  Give  us  the 
news  and  we'll  play  it  up  big  through  our  Eastern 
syndicate.  You  can  handle  the  magazine  articles 
in  a  more  dignified  way,  if  you  choose.  A  few  good 
vigorous,  fearless,  newspaper  stories,  written  by 
some  one  on  the  ground,  will  give  Congress  such  a 
jolt  that  no  coal  patents  will  be  issued  this  season 

TOO 


IN  WHICH  WE  COME  TO  OMAR 

and  no  Government  aid  will  be  given  to  the  railroads. 
You  get  the  idea?" 

"Certainly!     But  it  will  take  time  to  do  all  that." 

"Spend  a  year  at  it  if  necessary.  The  Review 
is  fighting  for  a  principle;  it  will  back  you  to  any 
extent.  Isn't  it  worth  a  year,  two  years,  of  hard 
labor,  to  awaken  the  American  people  to  the  knowl 
edge  that  they  are  being  robbed  of  their  birthright  ? 
I  have  several  men  whom  I  could  send,  but  I  chose 
you  because  your  work  along  this  line. has  given  you 
a  standing.  This  is  your  chance,  Eliza — to  make  a 
big  reputation  and  to  perform  a  real  service  to  the 
country.  It's  a  chance  that  may  never  come  your 
way  again.  Will  you  go?" 

"Of  course  I'll  go." 

"I  knew  you  would.  You're  all  business,  and 
that's  what  makes  a  hit  in  this  office.  You're  up 
against  a  tough  proposition,  but  I  can  trust  you 
to  make  good  on  it.  You  can't  fail  if  you  play  one 
interest  against  the  other,  for  they're  all  fighting 
like  Kilkenny  cats.  The  Heidlemanns  are  a  bunch 
of  bandits;  Gordon  is  a  brilliant,  unscrupulous  pro 
moter;  O'Neil  is  a  cold,  shrewd  schemer  with  more 
brains  and  daring  than  any  of  the  others — he 
showed  that  when  he  walked  in  there  and  seized  the 
Salmon  River  canon.  He  broke  up  all  their  plans 
and  set  the  Copper  Trust  by  the  ears,  but  I  under 
stand  they've  got  him  bottled  up  at  last.  Here's 
your  transportation — on  Saturday's  steamer."  The 
editor  shook  Miss  Appleton's  hand  warmly  as  she 
rose.  "Good  luck,  Eliza!  Remember,  we  won't 
balk,  no  matter  how  lively  your  stuff  is.  The  hotter 
the  better — and  that's  what  the  magazines  want, 
too.  If  I  were  you,  I'd  gum-shoe  it.  They're  a 

101 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

rotten  crowd  and  they  might  send  you  back  if  they 
got  wise." 

"I  think  not,"  said  Eliza,  quietly. 

The  town  of  Omar  lay  drenched  in  mist  as  the 
steamer  bearing  the  representative  of  The  Review 
drew  in  at  the  dock.  The  whole  region  was  sodden 
and  rain-soaked,  verdant  with  a  lush  growth.  No 
summer  sun  shone  here,  to  bake  sprouting  leaves  or 
sear  tender  grasses.  Beneath  the  sheltering  firs  a 
blanket  of  moss  extended  over  hill  and  vale,  knee- 
deep  and  treacherous  to  the  foot.  The  mountain 
crests  were  white,  and  down  every  gully  streamed 
water  from  the  melting  snows.  The  country  itself 
lay  on  end,  as  if  crumpled  by  some  giant  hand,  and 
presented  a  tropical  blend  of  colors.  There  was  the 
gray  of  fog  and  low-swept  clouds,  the  dense,  dark 
green  of  the  spruces,  underlaid  with  the  richer, 
lighter  shades  where  the  summer  vegetation  rioted. 
And  running  through  it  all  were  the  shimmering, 
silent  reaches  of  the  sound. 

Omar  itself  was  a  mushroom  city,  sprung  up  by 
magic,  as  if  the  dampness  at  its  roots  had  caused 
it  to  rise  overnight.  A  sawmill  shrieked  complain- 
ingly;  a  noisy  switch-engine  shunted  rows  of  flat 
cars  back  and  forth,  tooting  lustily;  the  rattle  of 
steam-winches  and  the  cries  of  stevedores  from  a 
discharging  freighter  echoed  against  the  hillsides. 
Close  huddled  at  the  water-front  lay  the  old  cannery 
buildings,  greatly  expanded  and  multiplied  now  and 
glistening  with  fresh  paint.  Back  of  them  again 
lay  the  town,  its  stumpy,  half-graded  streets  ter 
minating  in  the  forest  like  the  warty  feelers  of  a 
stranded  octopus.  Everywhere  was  hurry  and  con- 

102 


IN  WHICH  WE  COME  TO  OMAR 

fusion,  and  over  all  was  the  ever-present  shroud  of 
mist  which  thickened  into  showers  or  parted  reluc 
tantly  to  let  the  sun  peep  through. 

Dan  Appleton,  his  clothing  dewy  from  the  fog, 
his  cheeks  bronzed  by  exposure,  was  over  the  rail 
before  the  ship  had  made  fast,  and  had  Eliza  in  his 
arms,  crushing  her  with  the  hug  of  a  bear. 

"Come  up  to  the  house,  Sis,  quick!"  he  cried,  when 
the  first  frenzy  of  greeting  was  over — "your  house  and 
mine!"  His  eyes  were  dancing,  his  face  was  alight 
with  eagerness. 

"But,  Danny,"  she  laughed,  squeezing  his  arm 
tenderly,  "you  live  with  Mr.  O'Neil  and  all  those 
other  men  in  a  horrible,  crawling  bunk-house." 

"Oh,  do  I?  I'll  have  you  know  that  our  bunk- 
houses  don't  crawl.  And  besides —  But  wait! 
It's  a  s'prise." 

"A  s'prise?"  she  queried,  eagerly.     "For  me?" 

He  nodded. 

"Tell  me  what  it  is,  quick!  You  know  I  never 
could  wait  for  s' prises." 

"Well,  it's  a  brand-new  ultra  -  stylish  residence 
for  just  you  and  me.  When  the  chief  heard  you  were 
coming  he  had  a  cottage  built." 

"Danny!  It  was  only  five  days  ago  that  I  cabled 
you!" 

"That's  really  ten  days  for  us,  for  you  see  we  never 
sleep.  It  is  finished  and  waiting,  and  your  room  is 
in  white,  and  the  paint  will  be  dry  to-morrow.  He's 
a  wonder!" 

Remembering  the  nature  of  her  mission,  Eliza 
demurred.  "I'm  afraid  I  can't  live  there,  Dan. 
You  know" — she  hesitated — "I  may  have  to  write 
some  rather  dreadful  things  about  him," 

103 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"What?"  Dan's  face  fell.  "You  are  going  to 
attack  the  chief !  I  had  no  idea  of  that !"  He  looked 
genuinely  distressed  and  a  little  stern. 

She  laid  a  pleading  hand  upon  his  arm.  "Forgive 
me,  Dan,"  she  said.  "I  knew  how  you  would  feel, 
and,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  don't  like  that  part  of  it  one 
bit.  But  it  was  my  big  chance — the  sort  of  thing 
I  have  been  waiting  years  for.  I  couldn't  bear  to 
miss  it."  There  was  a  suspicion  of  tears  in  her  eyes. 
"I  didn't  think  it  all  out.  I  just  came.  Things  get 
awfully  mixed,  don't  they?  Of  course  I  wouldn't 
attack  him  unfairly,  but  I  do  believe  in  conservation 
— and  what  could  I  do  but  come  here  to  you?" 

Dan  smiled  to  reassure  her.  "Perhaps  you  won't 
feel  like  excoriating  him  when  you  learn  more  about 
things.  I  know  you  wouldn't  be  unfair.  You'd 
flunk  the  job  first.  Wait  till  you  talk  to  him.  But 
you  can't  refuse  his  kindness,  for  a  time  at  least. 
There's  nowhere  else  for  you  to  stay,  and  Murray 
would  pick  you  up  and  put  you  into  the  cottage, 
muck-rake  and  all,  if  I  didn't.  He  had  to  go  out  on 
the  work  this  morning  or  he'd  have  been  here  to 
welcome  you.  He  sent  apologies  and  said  a  lot  of 
nice  things,  which  I've  forgotten." 

"Well"— Eliza  still  looked  troubled— "all  right. 
But  wait,"  she  cried,  with  a  swift  change  of  mood. 
"I've  made  a  little  friend,  the  dearest,  the  most  use 
less  creature!  We  shared  the  same  stateroom  and 
we're  sisters.  She  actually  says  I'm  pretty,  so  of 
course  I'm  her  slave  for  life."  She  hurried  away  in 
the  midst  of  Dan's  loyal  protestations  that  she  was 
pretty — more  beautiful  than  the  stars,  more  pleasing 
to  the  eye  than  the  orchids  of  Brazil.  A  moment 
later  she  reappeared  to  present  Natalie  Gerard, 

104 


IN   WHICH  WE  COME  TO  OMAR 

Dan  greeted  the  new  arrival  with  a  cordiality  in 
which  there  was  a  trace  of  shyness  unusual  with 
him.  "We've  made  quite  a  change  since  you  were 
up  here,  Miss  Gerard,"  he  remarked.  "The  ships 
stop  first  at  Omar  now,  you  see.  I  trust  it  won't 
inconvenience  you." 

"Not  in  the  least,"  said  Natalie.  "I  shall  arrive 
at  Hope  quite  soon  enough." 

"Omar  Khayyam  is  out  in  the  wilderness  some 
where,"  Eliza  informed  her  girl  friend,  "with  his 
book  of  verses  and  his  jug  of  wine,  I  suppose." 

"Mr.  O'Neil?" 

"Yes.  But  he'll  be  back  soon,  and  meanwhile  you 
are  to  come  up  and  see  our  paradise." 

' '  It — looks  terribly  wet, ' '  Natalie  ventured.  *  *  Per 
haps  we'd  better  wait  until  the  rain  stops." 

"Please  don't,"  Dan  laughed.  "It  won't  stop 
until  autumn  and  then  it  will  only  change  to  snow. 
We  don't  have  much  sunshine — " 

"You  must!  You're  tanned  like  an  Indian,"  his 
sister  exclaimed. 

"That's  rust!  O'Neil  wanted  to  get  a  record  of 
the  bright  weather  in  Omar,  so  he  put  a  man  on  the 
job  to  time  it,  but  the  experiment  failed!" 

"How  so?" 

"We  didn't  have  a  stop-watch  in  town.  Now 
come!  Nobody  ever  catches  cold  here — there  isn't 
time." 

He  led  the  two  girls  ashore  and  up  through  the 
town  to  a  moss-green  bungalow,  its  newness  attested 
by  the  yellow  sawdust  and  fresh  shavings  which 
lay  about.  Amid  their  exclamations  of  delight  he 
showed  them  the  neatly  furnished  interior,  and 
among  other  wonders  a  bedroom  daintily  done  in 
8  I05 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

white,  with  white  curtains  at  the  mullioned  windows 
and  a  suite  of  wicker  furniture. 

"Where  he  dug  all  that  up  I  don't  know,"  Dan 
said,  pointing  to  the  bed  and  dresser  and  chairs. 
"He  must  have  had  it  hidden  out  somewhere." 

Eliza  surveyed  this  chamber  with  wondering  eyes. 
1 '  It  makes  me  feel  quite  ashamed, "  she  said, ' '  though, 
of  course,  he  did  it  for  Dan.  When  he  discovers  my 
abominable  mission  he'll  probably  set  me  out  in  the 
rain  and  break  all  my  lead-pencils.  But — isn't  he 
magnificent?" 

"He  quite  overwhelms  one,"  Natalie  agreed. 
1 '  Back  in  New  York,  he's  been  sending  me  American 
Beauties  every  week  for  more  than  a  year.  It's 
his  princely  way."  She  colored  slightly,  despite 
the  easy  frankness  of  her  manner. 

"Oh,  he's  always  doing  something  like  that," 
Dan  informed  them,  whereupon  his  sister  exclaimed : 

"You  see,  Natalie!  The  man  is  a  viper.  If  he 
let  his  beard  grow  I'm  sure  we'd  see  it  was  blue." 

"You  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  judging," 
came  O' Neil's  voice  from  behind  them,  and  he 
entered  with  hands  outstretched,  smiling  at  their 
surprise.  When  he  had  expressed  his  pleasure  at 
Natalie's  presence  and  had  bidden  both  her  and 
Eliza  welcome  to  Omar,  he  explained: 

"I've  just  covered  eighteen  miles  on  a  railroad 
tricycle  and  my  back  is  broken.  The  engines  were 
busy,  but  I  came,  anyhow,  hoping  to  arrive  before 
the  steamer.  Now  what  is  this  I  hear  about  my 
beard?" 

It  was  Eliza's  turn  to  blush,  and  she  outdid  Natalie. 

"They  were  raving  about  your  gallantry,"  said 
Dan  with  all  a  brother's  ruthlessness,  'until  I  told 

106 


IN  WHICH  WE  COME  TO  OMAR 

them  it  was  merely  a  habit  of  mind  with  you;  then 
Sis  called  you  a  Bluebeard." 

O'Neil  smiled,  stroking  his  stubbly  chin.  "You 
see  it's  only  gray." 

"I — don't  see,"  said  Eliza,  still  flushing  furiously. 

"You  would  if  I  continued  to  let  it  grow." 

"Hm-m!  I  think,  myself,  it's  a  sort  of  bluish 
gray,"  said  Dan. 

"You  are  still  working  miracles,"  Natalie  told 
O'Neil,  an  hour  later,  while  he  was  showing  his 
visitors  the  few  sights  of  Omar — "miracles  of  kind 
ness,  as  usual." 

Dan  and  his  sister  were  following  at  a  distance, 
arm  in  arm  and  chattering  like  magpies. 

"No,  no!  That  cottage  is  nothing.  Miss  Apple- 
ton  had  to  have  some  place  to  stop." 

"This  all  seems  like  magic."  Natalie  paused  and 
looked  over  the  busy  little  town.  "And  to  think 
you  have  done  it  in  a  year." 

"It  was  not  I  who  did  it;  the  credit  belongs  to 
those  'boys'  of  whom  I  told  you.  They  are  all 
here,  by  the  way — Parker,  McKay,  Mellen,  Sheldon, 
'Doc'  Gray — he  has  the  hospital,  you  know." 

"And  Mr.  Slater?" 

"Oh,  we  couldn't  exist  without  'Happy  Tom'! 
No,  the  only  miracle  about  all  this  is  the  loyalty 
that  has  made  it  possible.  It  is  that  which  has 
broken  all  records  in  railroad-building;  that's  what 
has  pushed  our  tracks  forward  until  we're  nearly  up 
to  one  of  Nature's  real  miracles.  You  shall  see 
those  glaciers,  one  of  these  days.  Sometimes  I 
wonder  if  even  the  devotion  of  those  men  will 
carry  us  through  the  final  test.  But — you  shall  meet 
them  all,  to-night — my  whole  family." 

107 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"I  can't.     The  ship  leaves  this  afternoon." 

"I've  arranged  to  send  you  to  Hope  in  my  motor- 
boat,  just  as  Mr.  Gordon  sent  me  on  my  way  a 
year  ago.  You  will  stay  with  the  Appletons 
to-night  and  help  at  the  house-warming,  then 
Dan  will  take  you  on  in  the  morning.  Women  are 
such  rare  guests  at  Omar  that  we  refuse  to  part 
with  them.  You  agree  ? ' ' 

"How  can  I  refuse?  Your  word  seems  to  be 
law  here.  I'll  send  word  to  mother  by  the  ship 
that  I  am  detained  by  royal  decree." 

She  spoke  with  a  gaiety  that  seemed  a  little  forced, 
and  at  mention  of  her  departure  a  subtle  change 
had  come  over  her  face.  O'Neil  realized  that  she 
had  matured  markedly  since  his  last  meeting  with 
her;  there  was  no  longer  quite  the  same  effect  of 
naive  girlishness. 

"This  was  a  very  unhappy  year  for  your  loyal 
subject,  Mr.  O'Neil." 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  declared  with  such  genuine  kind 
liness  that  she  was  moved  to  confide  in  him. 

"Mother  and  I  are  ruined." 

"Will  you  tell  me  about  it?" 

"It's  merely — those  wretched  coal  claims.  I  have 
a  friend  in  the  Land  Office  at  Washington,  and, 
remembering  what  you  said,  I  asked  him  to  look 
them  up.  I  knew  no  other  way  to  go  about  it. 
He  tells  me  that  something  was  done,  or  was  not 
done,  by  us,  and  that  we  have  lost  all  we  put  in." 

"I  urged  Gordon  to  obey  that  ruling,  last  spring." 
Natalie  saw  that  his  face  was  dark  with  indignation, 
and  the  knowledge  that  he  really  cared  set  her  heart 
to  pounding  gratefully.  She  was  half  tempted  to 
tell  about  that  other,  that  greater  trouble  which 

108 


IN  WHICH  WE  COME  TO  OMAR 

had  stolen  in  upon  her  peace  of  mind  and  robbed 
her  of  her  girlhood,  but  she  shrank  from  baring  her 
wounds — above  all,  a  wound  so  vital  and  so  personal 
as  this. 

"Does  your  mother  know?"  he  queried. 

"No,  I  preferred  to  tell  her  in  Mr.  Gordon's 
presence."  Murray  noticed  that  she  no  longer 
called  the  man  uncle.  "But  now  that  the  time  has 
come,  I'm  frightened." 

"Never  allow  yourself  to  be  afraid.  Fear  is  some 
thing  false;  it  doesn't  exist." 

"It  seems  to  me  he  was — unfaithful  to  his  trust. 
Am  I  right?" 

"That  is  something  you  must  judge  for  yourself," 
he  told  her,  gravely.  "You  see,  I  don't  know  any 
thing  about  the  reasons  which  prompted  him  to  sac 
rifice  your  rights.  He  may  have  had  very  good 
reasons.  I  dare  say  he  had.  In  building  this  railroad 
I  have  felt  but  one  regret;  that  is  the  indirect  effect 
it  may  have  upon  you  and  your  mother.  Your  affairs 
are  linked  closely  with  Gordon's  and  the  success  of 
my  enterprise  will  mean  the  failure  of  his." 

"You  mustn't  feel  that  way.  I'm  sure  it  won't 
affect  us  at  all,  for  we  have  nothing  more  to  lose. 
Sometimes  I  think  his  judgment  is  faulty,  erratic, 
wonderful  man  though  he  is.  Mother  trusts  him 
blindly,  of  course,  and  so  do  I,  yet  I  hardly  know 
what  to  do.  It  is  impossible  that  he  did  worse  than 
make  a  mistake." 

Her  dark  eyes  were  bent  upon  Murray  and  they 
were  eloquent  with  the  question  which  she  could  not 
bring  herself  to  ask.  He  longed  to  tell  her  frankly 
that  Curtis  Gordon  was  a  charlatan,  or  even  worse, 
and  that  his  fairest  schemes  were  doomed  to  failure 

109 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

by  the  very  nature  of  his  methods,  but  instead  he 
said: 

"I'm  deeply  distressed.  I  hope  things  are  not 
as  bad  as  you  think  and  that  Mr.  Gordon  will  be  able 
to  straighten  them  out  for  you.  If  ever  I  can  be  of 
service  you  must  be  sure  to  call  upon  me." 

Her  thanks  were  conventional,  but  in  her  heart  was 
a  deep,  warm  gratitude,  for  she  knew  that  he  meant 
what  he  said  and  would  not  fail  her. 

Dan  Appleton,  eying  Natalie  and  his  chief  from 
a  distance,  exclaimed,  admiringly: 

"She's  a  perfect  peach,  Sis.     She  registered  a  home 
run  with  me  the  first  time  at  bat." 

"She  is  nice." 

"You  know  a  fellow  gets  mighty  lonely  in  a  place 
like  this.  She'd  make  a  dandy  sister-in-law  for  you, 
wouldn't  she?" 

"Forget  it!"  said  Eliza,  sharply.  "That's  rank 
insubordination.  Omar  Khayyam  snatched  her  from 
the  briny  and  tried  to  die  for  her.  He  has  bought 
her  two  acres  of  the  most  expensive  roses  and  he 
remembers  the  date  of  her  birthday.  Just  you  keep 
your  hands  off." 

"How  does  she  feel  about  him?" 

"Oh,  she  heroizes  him,  of  course.  I  don't  know 
just  how  deep  the  feeling  goes,  but  I  got  the  impres 
sion  that  it  was  pretty  serious.  Two  women  can't 
borrow  hair-pins  and  mix  powder  puffs  for  a  week  and 
remain  strangers." 

"Then,  as  for  Daniel  Appleton,  C.E.,  good  night!11 
exclaimed  her  brother,  ruefully.  "If  I  were  a 
woman  I'd  marry  him  myself,  provided  I  could  get 
ahead  of  the  rush;  but,  being  a  male  of  the  species, 
I  suppose  I  shall  creep  out  into  the  jungle  and  sulk." 

X  10 


IN  WHICH  WE  COME  TO  OMAR 

"Right-o!  Don't  enter  this  race,  for  I'm  afraid 
you'd  be  a  bad  loser!  Personally  I  can't  see  any 
thing  in  him  to  rave  about.  What  scares  me  pink  is 
the  knowledge  that  I  must  tell  him  the  wretched 
business  that  brings  me  here.  If  he  strikes  me, 
Danny,  remember  I'm  still  your  sister." 

When  the  big  gong  gave  the  signal  for  luncheon 
Appleton  conducted  Natalie  and  Eliza  to  the  com 
pany  messroom,  where  the  field  and  office  force 
dined  together,  and  presented  them  to  his  fellow- 
lieutenants.  At  supper-time  those  who  had  been 
out  on  the  line  during  the  day  were  likewise  in 
troduced,  and  after  a  merry  meal  the  whole  party 
escorted  the  two  girls  back  to  the  green  bungalow. 

"Why,  here's  a  piano!"  Eliza  exclaimed  upon 
entering  the  parlor. 

"I  borrowed  it  for  the  evening  from  the  Elite 
Saloon,"  O'Neil  volunteered.  "It's  a  dissipated  old 
Instrument,  and  some  of  its  teeth  have  been  knocked 
out — in  drunken  brawls,  I'm  afraid — but  the  owner 
vouched  for  its  behavior  on  this  occasion." 

"It  knows  only  one  tune — 'I  Won't  Go  Home 
until  Morning,'"  Dan  declared. 

McKay,  however,  promptly  disproved  this  asser 
tion  by  seating  himself  at  the  keyboard  and  rattling 
off  some  popular  melodies.  With  music  and  laughter 
the  long  twilight  fled,  for  O' Neil's  "boys"  flung 
themselves  into  the  task  of  entertaining  his  guests 
with  whole-souled  enthusiasm. 

So  successful  were  their  efforts  that  even  "Happy 
Tom"  appeared  to  derive  a  mild  enjoyment  from 
them,  which  was  a  testimonial  indeed.  His  pleasure 
was  made  evident  by  no  word  of  praise,  nor  faintest 
smile,  but  rather  by  the  lightened  gloom  in  which 

in 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

he  chewed  his  gum  and  by  the  fact  that  he  com 
plained  of  nothing.  In  truth,  he  was  not  only  enter 
tained  by  the  general  gaiety,  but  he  was  supremely 
interested  in  Miss  Appleton,  who  resembled  no  crea 
ture  he  had  ever  seen.  He  had  met  many  girls 
like  Natalie,  and  feared  them,  but  Eliza,  with  her 
straightforward  airs  and  her  masculine  mannerisms, 
was  different.  She  affected  him  in  a  way  at  once 
pleasant  and  disagreeable.  He  felt  no  diffidence 
in  speaking  to  her,  for  instance — a  phenomenon 
which  was  in  itself  a  ground  for  suspicion.  Then, 
too,  her  clothes — he  could  not  take  his  eyes  off  her 
clothes — were  almost  like  Dan's.  That  seemed  to 
show  common  sense,  but  was  probably  only  the  sign 
of  an  eccentric,  domineering  nature.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  few  words  she  addressed  to  him  were 
gracious,  and  her  eyes  had  a  merry  twinkle  which 
warmed  his  heart.  She  must  be  all  right,  he  reluc 
tantly  concluded,  being  Dan's  sister  and  O'Neil's 
friend.  But  deep  down  in  his  mind  he  cherished  a 
doubt. 

At  her  first  opportunity  Eliza  undertook  to  make 
that  confession  the  thought  of  which  had  troubled 
her  all  the  afternoon.  Drawing  O'Neil  aside,  she 
began  with  some  trepidation,  "Have  you  any  idea 
why  I'm  here?" 

1 '  I  supposed  either  you  or  Dan  had  achieved  your 
pet  ambition." 

"Far  from  it.  I  have  a  fell  purpose,  and  when 
you  learn  what  it  is  I  expect  you  to  move  the  piano 
out — that's  what  always  happens  in  the  play  when 
the  heroine  is  dispossessed.  Well,  then,  I've  been 
sent  by  The  Review  to  bare  all  the  disgraceful  secrets 
of  your  life!" 

112 


IN   WHICH  WE  COME  TO  OMAR 

"I'm  delighted  to  learn  you'll  be  here  so  long. 
You  can't  possibly  finish  that  task  before  next 
spring."  His  manner,  though  quizzical,  was  genu 
inely  hearty. 

"Don't  laugh!"  said  the  girl.  "There's  nothing 
funny  about  it.  I  came  north  as  a  spy." 

"Then  you're  a  Northern  Spy!" 

"Apples!"  she  cried.  "You  remembered,  didn't 
you?  I  never  supposed  men  like  you  could  be 
flippant.  Well,  here  goes  for  the  worst."  She  out 
lined  her  conversation  with  the  editor  of  her  paper. 

"So  you  think  I'm  trying  to  steal  Alaska,"  he 
said  when  she  had  concluded. 

"That  seems  to  be  the  general  idea." 

"It's  a  pretty  big  job." 

"Whoever  controls  transportation  will  have  the 
country  by  the  throat." 

"Yet  somebody  must  build  railroads,  since  the 
Government  won't.  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that 
there  is  a  great  risk  involved  in  a  thing  of  this  sort, 
and  that  capital  must  see  a  profit  before  it  enters  a 
new  field?  I  wonder  if  you  know  how  badly  this 
country  needs  an  outlet  and  how  much  greater  the 
benefit  in  dollars  and  cents  will  be  to  the  men  in  the 
interior  than  to  those  who  finance  the  road.  But 
I  perceive  that  you  are  a  conservationist." 

"Rabid!"  Eliza  bridled  a  little  at  the  hint  of 
amused  superiority  in  his  voice.  "  I'm  a  suffragist, 
too!  I  dare  say  that  adds  to  your  disgust." 

"Nonsense!"  he  protested.  "I  have  no  quarrel 
with  conservation  nor  with  'votes  for  women.' 
Neither  have  I  anything  to  conceal.  I'm  only 
afraid  that,  like  most  writers,  you  will  be  content 
with  half -information.  Incomplete  facts  are  respon- 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

sible  for  most  misunderstandings.  If  you  are  in 
earnest  and  will  promise  to  take  the  time  necessary 
to  get  at  all  the  facts,  I'll  make  an  agreement  with 
you." 

"I  promise!  Time  and  a  typewriter  are  my  only 
assets.  I  don't  intend  to  be  hurried." 

Dan  approached,  drawn  by  the  uncomfortable 
knowledge  of  his  sister's  predicament,  and  broke  in: 

"Oh,  Sis  has  time  to  burn!  She's  going  to  write 
a  book  on  the  salmon  canneries  while  she's  here. 
It's  bound  to  be  one  of  the  'six  best  smellers'!" 

O'Neil  waved  him  away  with  the  threat  of  sending 
him  out  among  the  mosquitoes. 

"I'll  agree  to  show  you  everything  we're  doing." 

"Even  to  the  coal-fields?" 

' '  Even  to  them.  You  shall  know  everything,  then 
you  can  write  what  you  please." 

"And  when  I've  exposed  you  to  the  world  as  a 
commercial  pickpocket,  as  a  looter  of  the  public 
domain — after  Congress  has  appropriated  your  fabu 
lous  coal  claims — will  you  nail  up  the  door  of  this 
little  cottage,  and  fire  Dan?" 

"No." 

"Will  you  still  be  nice  to  me?" 

"My  dear  child,  you  are  my  guest.  Come  and 
go  when  and  where  you  will.  Omar  is  yours  so 
long  as  you  stay,  and  when  you  depart  in  triumph, 
leaving  me  a  broken,  discredited  wretch,  I  shall 
stand  on  the  dock  and  wave  you  a  bon  voyage. 
Now  it's  bedtime  for  my  'boys,'  since  we  rise  at 
five  o'clock." 

"Heavens!  Five!  Why  the  sun  isn't  up  at  that 
time!" 

"The  sun  shines  very  little  here;  that's  why  we 

114 


IN  WHICH  WE  COME  TO  OMAR 

want  you  to  stay  at  Omar.     I  wish  we  might  also 
keep  Miss  Natalie." 

When  the  callers  had  gone  Eliza  told  Natalie 
and  Dan: 

"He  took  it  so  nicely  that  I  feel  more  ashamed 
than  ever.  One  would  think  he  didn't  care  at  all. 
Do  you  suppose  he  does?" 

"There's  no  denying  that  you  appeared  at  an 
unfortunate  time,"  said  her  brother. 

"Why?" 

"Well — I'm  not  sure  we'll  ever  succeed  with  this 
project.  Parker  says  the  glacier  bridge  can  be 
built,  but  the  longer  he  studies  it  the  graver  he  gets. 
It's  making  an  old  man  of  him." 

"What  does  Mr.  O'Neil  say?" 

"Oh,  he's  sanguine,  as  usual.  He  never  gives 
up.  But  he  has  other  things  to  worry  him — money ! 
It's  money,  money,  all  the  time.  He  wasn't  terribly 
rich,  to  begin  with,  and  he  has  used  up  all  his 
own  fortune,  besides  what  the  other  people  put  in. 
You  see,  he  never  expected  to  carry  the  project 
so  far;  he  believed  the  Trust  would  buy  him 
out." 

"Well?" 

"It  hasn't  and  it  evidently  doesn't  intend  to. 
When  it  learned  of  his  plan,  its  engineers  beat  it 
out  to  the  glaciers  and  looked  them  over.  Then 
they  gave  up  their  idea  of  building  in  from  Cortez,  but 
instead  of  making  terms  with  us,  they  moved  their 
whole  outfit  down  to  Kyak  Bay,  right  alongside  of 
the  coal-fields,  and  now  it  has  become  a  race  to  the 
glaciers,  with  Gordon  fighting  us  on  the  side  just 
to  make  matters  lively.  The  Trust  has  the  shorter 
route,  but  we  have  the  start." 

05 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"Why  didn't  Mr.  O'Neil  take  Kyak  as  a  terminus, 
instead  of  Omar?" 

"He  says  it's  not  feasible.  Kyak  is  an  open 
harbor,  and  he  says  no  breakwater  can  be  built  there 
to  withstand  the  storms.  He  still  clings  to  that 
belief,  although  the  Trust  is  actually  building  one. 
If  they  succeed  we're  cooked.  Meanwhile  he's 
rushing  work  and  straining  every  nerve  to  raise  more 
money.  Now  you  come  along  with  a  proposal  to 
advertise  the  whole  affair  to  the  public  as  a  gigan 
tic  graft  and  set  Congress  against  him.  I  think 
he  treated  you  mighty  well,  under  the  circum 
stances." 

"I  won't  act  against  my  convictions,"  Eliza 
declared,  firmly,  "even  if  it  means  calamity  to 
everybody." 

Natalie  spoke  for  the  first  time,  her  voice  tuned 
to  a  pitch  of  feeling  that  contrasted  oddly  with 
their  conversational  tones. 

"If  you  hurt  my  Irish  Prince,"  she  said,  "I  shall 
hate  you  as  long  as  I  live." 


IX 

WHEREIN    GORDON    SHOWS   HIS   TEETH 

A  FFAIRS  at  Hope  were  nearly,  if  not  quite, 
**•  as  prosperous  as  those  at  Omar,  for  Curtis 
Gordon's  advertising  had  yielded  large  and  quick 
returns.  His  experiment,  during  the  previous  sum 
mer,  of  bringing  his  richest  stockholders  north,  had 
been  a  great  success.  They  had  come,  ostensibly 
at  his  expense,  and  once  on  the  ground  had  allowed 
themselves  to  be  fairly  hypnotized.  They  had  gone 
where  he  led,  had  seen  what  he  pointed  out,  had 
believed  what  he  told  them.  Their  imaginations 
were  fired  with  the  grandeur  of  an  undertaking 
which  would  develop  the  vast  resources  of  the  north 
country  for  the  benefit  of  the  struggling  pioneers  of 
the  interior  and  humanity  in  general.  Incidentally 
they  were  assured  over  and  over  again  in  a  great 
variety  of  ways  that  the  profits  would  be  tremendous. 
Gordon  showed  them  Hope  and  its  half -completed 
mine  buildings,  he  showed  them  the  mountain 
behind.  It  was  a  large  mountain.  They  noticed 
there  were  trees  on  the  sides  of  it  and  snow  on  its 
top.  They  marveled.  He  said  its  heart  was  solid 
copper  ore,  and  they  gasped.  Had  he  told  them  in 
the  same  impressive  manner  that  the  hill  contained  a 
vein  three  inches  thick  they  would  have  exhibited 
the  same  astonishment.  They  entered  the  dripping 

"7 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

tunnels  and  peered  with  grave  approval  at  the  drills, 
the  rock-cars  and  the  Montenegrin  miners.  They 
rambled  over  the  dumps,  to  the  detriment  of  shoe- 
leather  and  shins,  filling  their  suit-cases  with  samples 
of  perfectly  good  country  rock.  They  confessed  to 
each  other,  with  admirable  conservatism,  that  the 
proposition  looked  very  promising,  very  promising 
indeed,  and  they  listened  with  appreciation  to  Gor 
don's  glowing  accounts  of  his  railroad  enterprise, 
the  physical  evidence  of  which  consisted  of  a  mile 
or  two  of  track  which  shrank  along  the  steep  shore- 
front  and  disappeared  into  a  gulch  as  if  ashamed  of 
itself.  He  had  a  wonderful  plan  to  consolidate  the 
mining  and  railroad  companies  and  talked  of  a  giant 
holding  corporation  which  would  share  in  the  profits 
of  each.  The  details  were  intricate,  but  he  seemed 
to  see  them  all  with  perfect  clearness,  and  his  vic 
tims  agreed. 

He  entertained  them  on  a  scale  that  was  almost 
embarrassing,  and  when  they  returned  to  their 
homes  they  outdid  one  another  in  their  praise  of  the 
financial  genius  who  was  leading  them  to  the  prom 
ised  land  of  profits  and  preferred  stock.  As  a  matter 
of  course  they  one  and  all  advised  their  friends  to 
buy,  vouching  for  the  fabulous  richness  of  Hope 
Consolidated,  and  since  their  statements  were  backed 
by  a  personal  examination  of  the  property,  subscrip 
tions  came  pouring  in. 

All  in  all,  the  excursion  had  proven  so  profitable 
that  Gordon  had  arranged  for  another,  designed  to 
accommodate  new  investors  and  promising  "pros 
pects."  Preparations  for  their  welcome  were  under 
way  when  Natalie  arrived. 

The  girl  and  her  mother  talked  late  that  evening, 
118 


GORDON   SHOWS    HIS   TEETH 

and  Gordon  saw  on  the  following  morning  that 
Gloria,  at  least,  had  passed  a  trying  night;  but  he 
gave  himself  no  uneasiness.  Emotional  storms  were 
not  unusual;  he  always  disregarded  them  as  far 
as  possible,  and  usually  they  passed  off  quietly. 
During  breakfast  he  informed  them : 

"I  received  a  letter  from  Miss  Golden  in  yester 
day's  mail.  She  is  to  be  one  of  the  new  party." 

''Did  you  invite  her  to  return  this  summer?" 
Mrs.  Gerard  inquired. 

"Yes!" 

"I  remember  her  well,"  said  Natalie — "too  well, 
in  fact.  I  thought  her  very  bold." 

"She  is  one  of  our  largest  investors,  and  she 
writes  she  would  enjoy  spending  a  fortnight  here 
after  the  others  go  back." 

"Will  you  allow  it?" 

"Allow  it!  My  dear  Gloria,  I  can't  possibly 
refuse.  In  fact  it  would  be  the  height  of  inhospi- 
tality  not  to  urge  her  to  do  so.  She  is  welcome  to 
stay  as  long  as  she  chooses,  for  these  quarters  are  as 
much  hers  as  ours.  I  hope  you  will  be  nice  to  her." 

Mrs.  Gerard  made  no  answer,  but  later  in  the 
morning  sought  Gordon  in  his  private  office. 

"I  preferred  not  to  discuss  the  Golden  woman 
before  Natalie,"  she  explained,  coldly,  "but — you 
don't  really  intend  to  have  her  here,  do  you?" 

"Most  assuredly!" 

"Then  I  shall  have  to  tell  her  she  is  not  welcome." 

"You  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort,  my  dear:  you 
will  assume  the  duties  of  hostess,  for  which  no  one 
is  more  charmingly  qualified." 

Mrs.  Gerard's  lips  were  white  with  anger  as  she 
retorted : 

119 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"I  shall  not  allow  that  woman  under  the  same 
roof  with  Natalie." 

"As  usual,  you  choose  the  most  inconvenient 
occasion  for  insisting  upon  your  personal  dislikes." 
"My  dislike  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter. 
I  overlooked  her  behavior  with  you  last  year — as  I 
have  overlooked  a  good  many  things  in  the  past — 
but  this  is  asking  too  much." 

Gordon's  coldness  matched  her  own  as  he  said: 
"I  repeat,  this  is  no  time  for  jealousy — " 
"Jealousy!     It's  an  insult  to  Natalie." 
"Miss  Golden  is  one  of  our  largest  stockholders." 
' '  That's  not  true !   I  had  Denny  look  up  the  matter. ' ' 
"So!"     Gordon  flared  up  angrily.     "Denny  has 
been  showing  you  the  books,  eh!     He  had  no  more 
right  to  do  that  than  you  had  to  pry  into  my  affairs. 
While  Miss  Golden's  investment  may  not  be  so  large 
as  some  others',   she  has  influential  friends.     She 
did  yeoman  service  in  the  cause,  and  I  can't  allow 
your  foolish  fancies  to  interfere  with  my  plans." 

"Fancies!"  cried  the  woman,  furiously.  "You 
behaved  like  a  school-boy  with  her.  It  was  dis 
graceful.  I  refuse  to  let  her  associate  with  my 
daughter." 

"Aren't  we  drawing  rather  fine  distinctions?" 
Gordon's  lip  curled.  "In  the  first  place,  Natalie  has 
no  business  here.  Since  she  came,  uninvited,  for 
the  second  time,  she  must  put  up  with  what  she 
finds.  I  warned  you  last  summer  that  she  might 
suspect — " 

"She  did.  She  does.  She  discovered  the  truth 
a  year  ago."  Mrs.  Gerard's  usually  impassive  face 
was  distorted  and  she  voiced  her  confession  with 
difficulty. 


GORDON  SHOWS  HIS  TEETH 

"The  devil!"  ejaculated  Gordon. 

The  woman  nodded.  "She  accused  me  last  night. 
I  tried  to — lie,  but — God !  How  I  have  lived  through 
these  hours  I'll  never  know." 

"Hm-m!"  Gordon  reflected,  briefly.  "Perhaps, 
after  all,  it's  just  as  well  that  she  knows;  she  would 
have  found  it  out  sooner  or  later,  and  there's  some 
satisfaction  in  knowing  that  the  worst  is  over." 

Never  before  had  his  callous  cynicism  been  so 
frankly  displayed.  It  chilled  her  and  made  the 
plea  she  was  about  to  voice  seem  doubly  difficult. 

"I  wish  I  looked  upon  the  matter  as  you  do,"  she 
said,  slowly.  "But  other  people  haven't  the  same 
social  ideas  as  we.  I'm — crushed,  and  she —  Poor 
child!  I  don't  know  how  she  had  the  courage  to 
face  it.  Now  that  she  has  heard  the  truth  from  my 
own  lips  I'm  afraid  it  will  kill  her." 

Gordon  laughed.  ' '  Nonsense !  Natalie  is  a  sensi 
ble  girl.  Disillusionment  is  always  painful,  but 
never  fatal.  Sooner  or  later  the  young  must  con 
front  the  bald  facts  of  life,  and  I  venture  to  say  she 
will  soon  forget  her  school-girl  morality.  Let  me 
explain  my  views  of — " 

"Never!"  cried  the  woman,  aghast.  "If  you  do 
I  shall — "  She  checked  herself  and  buried  her  face 
in  her  hands.  "I  feel  no  regrets  for  myself — for  I 
drifted  with  my  eyes  open — but  this — this  is  differ 
ent.  Don't  you  understand?  I  am  a  mother.  Or 
are  you  dead  to  all  decent  feeling?" 

"My  dear,  I'm  the  most  tender-hearted  of  men. 
Of  course  I  shall  say  nothing,  if  you  prefer,  for  I 
am  subservient  to  your  commands  in  all  things. 
But  calm  yourself.  What  is  done  cannot  be  un 
done/' 

9  121 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

In  more  even  tones  Mrs.  Gerard  said,  "You  seem 
to  think  the  matter  is  ended,  but  it  isn't.  Natalie 
will  never  allow  us  to  continue  this  way,  and  it  isn't 
just  to  her  that  we  should.  We  can't  go  on,  Curtis." 

"You  mean  I  must  marry  you?" 

She  nodded. 

He  rose  and  paced  the  room  before  answering. 
"I  always  supposed  you  understood  my  views  on 
that  subject.  Believe  me,  they  are  unalterable, 
and  in  no  way  the  result  of  a  pose." 

"Nevertheless,  for  my  sake  and  Natalie's  you 
will  do  it.  I  can't  lose  the  one  thing  I  love  best  in 
the  world." 

"It  would  seem  that  Natalie  has  filled  your  head 
with  silly  notions,"  he  exclaimed,  impatiently. 

"She  has  awakened  me.  I  have  her  life  to  con 
sider  as  well  as  my  own." 

"We  are  all  individuals,  supreme  in  ourselves, 
responsible  only  to  ourselves.  We  must  all  live  our 
own  lives;  she  cannot  live  yours,  nor  you  hers." 

"I  am  familiar  with  your  arguments,"  Mrs.  Gerard 
said,  wearily,  "but  I  have  thought  this  all  out  and 
there  is  no  other  way." 

He  frowned  in  his  most  impressive  manner  and 
his  chest  swelled  ominously. 

"I  will  not  be  coerced.  You  know  I  can't  be 
bullied  into  a  thing.  I  deny  that  you  have  any 
right  to  demand — " 

"I'm  not  demanding  anything.  I  merely  ask 
this — this  favor,  the  first  one  I  have  ever  asked. 
You  see,  my  pride  is  crumbling.  Don't  answer  now; 
let's  wait  until  we  are  both  calmer.  The  subject 
came  up — at  least  she  approached  it,  by  asking  about 
the  coal  claims.  She  is  worried  about  them/' 

122 


GORDON  SHOWS  HIS  TEETH 

"Indeed?" 

"She  was  told  by  a  friend  in  the  Land  Office  that 
our  rights  had  been  forfeited.  I  assured  her — " 

"I  refused  to  heed  the  absurd  rulings  of  the  De 
partment,  if  that  is  what  she  refers  to." 

"Then  we— have  lost?"  Mrs.  Gerard's  pallor 
increased. 

"Technically,  yes!  In  reality  I  shall  show  that 
our  titles  were  good  and  that  our  patents  should 
issue." 

"But"  —  the  woman's  bloodless  fingers  were 
tightly  interlaced  —  "all  I  have,  all  Natalie  has,  is 
in  those  claims." 

"Yes!  And  it  would  require  another  fortune  the 
size  of  both  to  comply  with  the  senseless  vagaries 
of  the  Interior  Department  and  to  protect  your 
interests.  I  grew  weary  of  forever  sending  good 
hard-earned  dollars  after  bad  ones,  merely  because 
of  the  shifting  whim  of  some  theorist  five  thousand 
miles  away." 

"Then  I  am  afraid — "  Mrs.  Gerard's  voice 
trailed  out  miserably.  "It  is  all  we  have,  and  you 
told  me—" 

Gordon  broke  in  irritably:  "My  dear  Gloria, 
spare  me  this  painful  faultfinding.  If  I  can  win  for 
you,  I  shall  do  so,  and  then  you  will  agree  that  I 
acted  wisely.  If  I  lose — it  will  merely  be  the  luck  of 
the  average  investor.  We  played  for  big  returns, 
and  of  course  the  risks  were  great." 

"But  Mr.  O'Neil  told  her  his  claims—" 

Gordon's  blazing  eyes  warned  her.  "O'Neil,  eh7 
So,  he  is  the  'friend  in  the  Land  Office  ' !  No  doubt 
he  also  gave  Natalie  the  suggestion  that  led  to  her 
scene  with  you.  Tell  her  to  occupy  herself  less  with 

123 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

affairs  which  do  not  concern  her  and  more  with 
her  own  conduct.  Her  actions  with  that  upstart 
have  been  outrageous." 

"What  about  your  own  actions  with  the  Golden 
woman?"  cried  Mrs.  Gerard,  reverting  with  femi 
nine  insistence  to  the  subject  of  their  first  difference. 
"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  her?" 

"Nothing." 

"Remember,  I  refuse  to  share  the  same  roof  with 
her.  You  wouldn't  ask  it  of  your  wife." 

Now  this  second  reference  to  a  disagreeable  subject 
was  unfortunate.  Gordon  was  given  to  the  widest 
vagaries  of  temper,  and  this  interview  had  exasper 
ated  him  beyond  measure,  for  he  was  strained  by 
other  worries.  He  exploded  harshly : 

1  *  Please  remember  that  you  are  not  my  wife !  My 
ideas  on  matrimony  will  never  change.  You  ought 
to  know  by  this  time  that  I  am  granite." 

"I  can't  give  up  Natalie.  I  would  give  up  much, 
for  we  women  don't  change,  but — " 

1 '  A  fallacy !' '  He  laughed  disagreeably.  ' '  Pardon 
me,  Gloria,  if  I  tell  you  that  you  do  change;  that 
you  have  changed;  that  time  has  left  its  imprint 
upon  even  you — a  cruel  fact,  but  true."  He  took 
a  savage  pleasure  in  her  trembling,  for  she  had  roused 
all  the  devils  in  him  and  they  were  many. 

' '  You  are  growing  tired !' ' 

"Not  at  all.  But  you  have  just  voiced  the 
strongest  possible  argument  against  marriage.  We 
grow  old!  Age  brings  its  alterations!  I  have  ever 
been  a  slave  to  youth  and  beauty  and  the  years 
bring  to  me  only  an  increasing  appreciation,  a  more 
critical  judgment,  of  the  beautiful.  If  I  chose  to 
marry  —  well,  frankly,  the  mature  charms  of  a 

124 


GORDON  SHOWS  HIS  TEETH 

woman  of  my  own  age  would  have  slight  attraction 
for  me." 

"Then— I  will  go,"  said  Mrs.  Gerard,  faintly. 

"Not  by  any  wish  of  mine,"  he  assured  her. 
"You  are  quite  welcome  to  stay.  Things  will  run 
along  in  the  usual  way — more  smoothly,  perhaps, 
now  that  we  have  attained  a  complete  understanding. 
You  have  no  place  to  go,  nor  means  with  which  to 
insure  a  living  for  yourself  and  Natalie.  I  would 
hate  to  see  you  sacrifice  yourself  and  her  to  a  Puri 
tanical  whim,  for  I  owe  you  much  happiness  and 
I'm  sure  I  should  miss  you  greatly.  Some  one  must 
rule,  and  since  nature  has  given  me  the  right  I  shall 
exercise  it.  We  will  have  no  more  rebellion." 

Mrs.  Gerard  left  the  room  dazed  and  sick  with 
despair. 

"We  must  go!  We  must  go!"  she  kept  repeating, 
but  her  tragic  look  alarmed  Natalie  far  more  than 
her  words. 

"Yes,  yes!"  The  girl  took  her  in  her  arms  and 
tried  to  still  the  ceaseless  trembling  which  shook 
the  mother's  frame,  while  her  own  tears  fell  un 
heeded. 

"We  must  go!    Now!" 

"Yes,  dearest!     But  where?" 

"You — love  me  still?"  asked  Gloria.  "I  suppose 
you  need  me,  too,  don't  you?  I  hadn't  thought 
of  that." 

"Every  hour!"  The  round  young  arms  pressed 
her  closer.  "You  won't  think  of — of  leaving  me." 

Mrs.  Gerard  shook  her  head  slowly.  "No!  I 
suppose  that  must  be  part  of  the  price.  But — - 
Penniless!  Friendless!  Where  can  we  go?" 

"Mr.  O'Neil  — my  Irish  Prince,"  faltered  the 
125 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

daughter  through  her  tears.     "  Perhaps  he  would 
take  us  in." 

"Omar  Khayyam,"  said  Eliza  Appleton,  entering 
O' Neil's  office  briskly,  "you  are  the  general  trouble 
man,  so  prepare  to  listen  to  mine." 

"Won't  the  kitchen  flue  draw,  or  has  a  hinge  come 
off  the  bungalow  door?"  Murray  smiled.  He  was 
harassed  by  endless  worries,  a  dozen  pressing  mat 
ters  called  for  his  instant  attention;  yet  he  showed 
no  trace  of  annoyance.  "If  so,  I'll  be  right  up  and 
fix  it." 

"The  kitchen  chimney  has  a  draught  that  threat 
ens  to  draw  Dan's  salary  out  with  the  smoke  every 
time  I  cook  a  meal,  and  the  house  is  dandy.  This 
is  a  real  man's-size  tribulation,  so  of  course  I  run 
to  you.  Simon  Legree  is  at  his  tricks  again." 

"Legree!" 

The  girl  nodded  her  blond  head  vigorously. 

"Yes!  He's  stolen  Mrs.  St.  Claire's  slaves,  and 
she  and  Little  Eva  are  out  in  the  cold." 

"What  the  deuce  are  you  talking  about?" 

"Gordon,  of  course,  and  the  two  Gerards,  Natalie 
and  Gloria — 'Town  Hall,  To-night.  Come  one, 
Come  all!'" 

"Oh !"     O'Neil's  eyes  brightened. 

"There  have  been  terrible  goings-on  over  at  Hope. 
I  went  up  yesterday,  in  my  official  capacity,  to 
reconnoiter  the  enemy's  position  and  to  give  him  a 
preliminary  skirmish,  but  the  great  man  was  sulking 
in  his  tent  and  sent  word  by  a  menial  for  me  to 
begone  or  look  out  for  the  bloodhounds.  Isn't  he 
the  haughty  thing?  I  don't  like  to  'begone' — I 
refuse  to  git  when  I'm  told,  so,  of  course,  I  paid  my 

126 


GORDON  SHOWS  HIS  TEETH 

respects  to  Natalie  and  her  mother.  But  what  do 
you  think  I  found?  Mrs.  St.  Claire  desolated,  Eva 
dissolved  in  tears  and  her  hair  down." 

"Will  you  talk  sense?" 

"Just  try  a  little  nonsense,  and  see.  Well,  the 
great  eruption  has  taken  place  and  the  loss  of  life  was 
terrible.  Among  those  buried  in  the  cinders  are  the 
dusky-eyed  heroine  and  her  friend  mother.  It  seems 
Eva  had  a  hand  in  the  overseer's  exposure — " 

"Yes,  yes!  It's  about  those  coal  claims.  I  knew 
it  was  coming." 

"She  told  her  mother  of  the  horrid  treachery, 
and  mother  lugged  the  complaint  to  Gordon  and 
placed  it  in  his  lap.  Result,  confession  and  defiance 
from  him.  Even  the  family  jewels  are  gone." 

"Is  Gordon  broke?" 

"He's  weltering  in  money,  but  the  coal  claims  are 
lost,  and  he  wants  to  know  what  they're  going  to 
do  about  it.  The  women  are  ruined.  He  magnani 
mously  offers  them  his  bounty,  but  of  course  they 
refuse  to  accept  it." 

"Hasn't  he  made  any  provision  for  them?" 

"Coffee  and  cakes,  three  times  a  day.  That's 
all !  He  won't  even  provide  transportation,  and  the 
troupe  can't  walk  home.  They  refuse  to  stay  there, 
but  they  can't  get  away.  I've  cabled  The  Review, 
overdrawing  my  salary  scandalously,  and  Dan  is 
eager  to  help,  but  the  worst  of  it  is  neither  of  those 
women  knows  how  to  make  a  living.  Natalie  wants 
to  work,  but  the  extent  of  her  knowledge  is  the 
knack  of  frosting  a  layer  cake,  and  her  mother  never 
even  sewed  on  a  button  in  all  her  life.  It  would 
make  a  lovely  Sunday  story,  and  it  wouldn't  help 
Curtis  Gordon  with  his  stockholders." 

127 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"You  won't  write  it,  of  course!" 

"Oh,  I  suppose  not,  but  it's  maddening  not  to  be 
able  to  do  something.  Since  there's  a  law  against 
manslaughter,  the  pencil  is  my  only  weapon.  I'd 
like  to  jab  it  clear  through  that  ruffian."  Eliza's 
animated  face  was  very  stern,  her  generous  mouth 
was  set  firmly. 

"You  can  leave  out  the  personal  element,"  he 
told  her.  "There's  still  a  big  story  there,  if  you 
realize  that  it  runs  back  to  Washington  and  involves 
your  favorite  policy  of  conservation.  Those  claims 
belonged  to  Natalie  and  her  mother.  I  happen  to 
know  that  their  locations  were  legal  and  that  there 
was  never  any  question  of  fraud  in  the  titles,  hence 
they  were  entitled  to  patents  years  ago.  Gordon 
did  wrong,  of  course,  in  refusing  to  obey  the  orders 
of  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior  even  though  he  knew 
those  orders  to  be  senseless  and  contradictory,  but 
the  women  are  the  ones  to  suffer.  The  Government 
froze  them  out.  This  is  only  one  instance  of  what 
delay  and  indecision  at  headquarters  has  done.  I'll 
show  you  others  before  we  are  through.  As  for  those 
two —  You  say  they  want  to  do  something?" 

"It's  not  a  question  of  wanting;  they've  got  to  do 
something — or  starve.  They  would  scrub  kitchens  if 
they  knew  how." 

"Why  didn't  they  come  to  me?" 

"Do  you  need  a  cook  and  a  dishwasher?" 

Murray  frowned.  "Our  new  hotel  is  nearly 
finished;  perhaps  Mrs.  Gerard  would  accept  a  posi 
tion  as — as  hostess." 

"Hostess!  In  a  railroad-camp  hotel!  Who  ever 
heard  of  such  a  thing?"  Eliza  eyed  him  incredu 
lously. 

128 


GORDON  SHOWS  HIS  TEETH 

O' Neil's  flush  did  not  go  unnoticed  as  he  said, 
quietly : 

"It  is  unusual,  but  we'll  try  it.  She  might  learn 
to  manage  the  business,  with  a  competent  assistant. 
The  salary  will  be  ample  for  her  and  Natalie  to  live 
on." 

Eliza  laid  a  hand  timidly  upon  his  arm  and  said  in 
an  altered  tone: 

' '  Omar  Khayyam,  you're  a  fine  old  Persian  gentle 
man!  I  know  what  it  will  mean  to  those  two  poor 
women,  and  I  know  what  it  will  mean  to  you,  for  of 
course  the  salary  will  come  out  of  your  pocket." 

He  smiled  down  at  her.  "It's  the  best  I  can  offer, 
and  I'm  sure  you  won't  tell  them." 

"Of  course  not.  I  know  how  it  feels  to  lose  a  for 
tune,  too,  for  I've  been  through  the  mill—  Don't 
laugh!  You  have  a  load  on  your  shoulders  heavier 
than  Mr.  Sinbad's,  and  it's  mighty  nice  of  you  to  let 
me  add  to  the  burden.  I — I  hope  it  won't  break 
your  poor  back.  Now  I'm  going  up  to  your  bunga 
low  and  lock  myself  into  your  white  bedroom, 
and—" 

"Have  a  good  cry!"  he  said,  noting  the  suspicious 
moisture  in  her  eyes. 

"Certainly  not!"  Eliza  exclaimed,  indignantly. 
"I'm  not  the  least  bit  sentimental." 


IN   WHICH   THE   DOCTOR   SHOWS   HIS   WIT 

/'"YNEIL'S  talk  with  Mrs.  Gerard  upon  her  arrival 
^-^  from  Hope  was  short  and  businesslike.  Neither 
by  word  nor  look  did  he  show  that  he  knew  or  sus 
pected  anything  of  the  real  reason  of  her  break  with 
Gordon.  Toward  both  her  and  Natalie  he  pre 
served  his  customary  heartiness,  and  their  first  con 
straint  soon  disappeared.  Mrs.  Gerard  had  been 
plunged  in  one  of  those  black  moods  in  which  it 
seems  that  no  possible  event  can  bring  even  a  sem 
blance  of  happiness,  but  it  was  remarkable  how  soon 
this  state  of  mind  began  to  give  way  before  O' Neil's 
matter-of-fact  cheerfulness.  He  refused  to  listen 
to  their  thanks  and  made  them  believe  that  they 
were  conferring  a  real  favor  upon  him  by  accepting 
the  responsibility  of  the  new  hotel.  Pending  the 
completion  of  that  structure  he  was  hard  pressed  to 
find  a  lodging-place  for  them  until  Eliza  and  her 
brother  insisted  that  they  share  the  bungalow  with 
them — a  thing  O'Neil  had  not  felt  at  liberty  to  ask 
under  the  circumstances.  Nor  was  the  tact  of  the 
brother  and  sister  less  than  his;  they  received  the 
two  unfortunates  as  honored  guests. 

Gradually  the  visitors  began  to  feel  that  they  were 
welcome,  that  they  were  needed,  that  they  had  an 
important  task  to  fulfil,  and  the  sense  that  they 

130 


THE  DOCTOR  SHOWS  HIS  WIT 

were  really  of  service  drove  away  depression.  Night 
after  night  they  lay  awake,  discussing  the  wonderful 
change  in  their  fortunes  and  planning  their  future. 
Natalie  at  least  had  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  all 
their  troubles  were  at  an  end. 

One  morning  they  awoke  to  learn  that  O'Neil  had 
gone  to  the  States,  leaving  Dr.  Gray  in  charge  of 
affairs  at  Omar  during  his  absence.  The  physician, 
who  was  fully  in  his  chief's  confidence,  gravely  dis 
cussed  their  duties  with  them,  and  so  discreet  was  he 
that  they  had  no  faintest  suspicion  that  he  knew 
their  secret.  It  was  typical  of  O'Neil  and  his  l ' boys ' ' 
that  they  should  show  this  chivalry  toward  two 
friendless  outcasts;  it  was  typical  of  them,  also,  that 
they  one  and  all  constituted  themselves  protectors  of 
Natalie  and  her  mother,  letting  it  be  known  through 
the  town  that  the  slightest  rudeness  toward  the 
women  would  be  promptly  punished. 

While  O'Neil's  unexpected  departure  caused  some 
comment,  no  one  except  his  trusted  lieutenants 
dreamed  of  the  grave  importance  of  his  mission. 
They  knew  the  necessities  that  hounded  him,  they 
were  well  aware  of  the  trembling  insecurity  in  which 
affairs  now  stood,  but  they  maintained  their  cheerful 
industry,  they  pressed  the  work  with  unabated 
energy,  and  the  road  crept  forward  foot  by  foot,  as 
steadily  and  as  smoothly  as  if  he  himself  were  on 
the  ground  to  direct  it. 

Many  disappointments  had  arisen  since  the  birth 
of  the  Salmon  River  &  Northwestern;  many  mis 
fortunes  had  united  to  retard  the  development  of 
its  builder's  plans.  The  first  obstacle  O'Neil  en 
countered  was  that  of  climate.  During  the  sum 
mer,  unceasing  rains,  mists,  and  fogs  dispirited  his 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

workmen  and  actually  cut  their  efficiency  in  half. 
He  had  made  certain  allowances  for  this,  of  course, 
but  no  one  could  have  foreseen  so  great  a  percentage 
of  inefficiency  as  later  developed.  In  winter,  the 
cold  was  intense  and  the  snows  were  of  prodigious 
depth,  while  outside  the  shelter  of  the  Omar  hills 
the  winds  howled  and  rioted  over  the  frozen  delta, 
chilling  men  and  animals  and  paralyzing  human 
effort .  Under  these  conditions  it  was  hard  to  get 
workmen,  and  thrice  harder  to  keep  them;  so  that 
progress  was  much  slower  than  had  been  anticipated. 

Then,  too,  the  physical  difficulties  of  the  country 
were  almost  insurmountable.  The  morass  which 
comprised  the  Salmon  River  plain  was  in  summer  a 
bottomless  ooze,  over  which  nothing  could  be  trans 
ported,  yet  in  winter  it  became  sheathed  with  a  steel- 
hard  armor  against  which  piling  splintered.  It 
could  be  penetrated  at  that  season  only  by  the 
assistance  of  steam  thawers,  which  involved  delay 
and  heavy  expense.  These  were  but  samples  of  the 
obstacles  that  had  to  be  met,  and  every  one  realized 
that  the  work  thus  far  had  been  merely  preparatory. 
The  great  obstruction,  upon  the  conquest  of  which 
the  success  of  the  whole  undertaking  hinged,  still 
lay  before  them. 

But  of  all  handicaps  the  most  serious  by  far  was 
the  lack  of  capital.  Murray  had  foreseen  as  inevi 
table  the  abandonment  by  the  Trust  of  its  Cortez 
route,  but  its  change  of  base  to  Kyak  had  come  as 
a  startling  surprise  and  as  an  almost  crushing  blow. 
Personally,  he  believed  its  present  plan  to  be  even 
more  impracticable  than  its  former  one,  but  its 
refusal  to  buy  him  out  had  disheartened  his  financial 
associates  and  tightened  their  purse-strings  into  a 

132 


THE  DOCTOR  SHOWS  HIS  WIT 

knot  which  no  argument  of  his  could  loose.  He  had 
long  since  exhausted  his  own  liquid  capital,  he  had 
realized  upon  his  every  available  asset,  and  his 
personal  credit  was  tottering.  He  was  obliged  to 
finance  his  operations  upon  new  money — a  task 
which  became  ever  more  difficult  as  the  months 
passed  and  the  Trust  continued  its  work  at  Kyak. 
Yet  he  knew  that  the  briefest  flagging,  even  a  tem 
porary  abandonment  of  work,  meant  swift  and 
utter  ruin.  His  track  must  go  forward,  his  labor 
must  be  paid,  his  supplies  must  not  be  interrupted. 
He  set  his  jaws  and  fought  on  stubbornly,  certain 
of  his  ultimate  triumph  if  only  he  could  hold  out. 

A  hundred  miles  to  the  westward  was  a  melan 
choly  example  of  failure  in  railroad-building,  in  the 
form  of  two  rows  of  rust  upon  a  weed-grown  em 
bankment.  It  was  all  that  remained  of  another 
enterprise  which  had  succumbed  to  financial  starva 
tion,  and  the  wasted  millions  it  represented  was 
depressing  to  consider. 

Thus  far  O' Neil's  rivalry  with  the  Trust  had  been 
friendly,  if  spirited,  but  his  action  in  coming  to  the 
assistance  of  Mrs.  Gerard  and  her  daughter  raised 
up  a  new  and  vigorous  enemy  whose  methods  were 
not  as  scrupulous  as  those  of  the  Heidlemanns. 

Gordon  was  a  strangely  unbalanced  man.  He  was 
magnetic,  his  geniality  was  really  heart  -  warming, 
yet  he  was  perfectly  cold-blooded  in  his  selfishness. 
He  was  cool  and  calculating,  but  interference  roused 
him  to  an  almost  insane  pitch  of  passion.  Fickle  in 
most  things,  he  was  uncompromising  in  his  hatreds. 
O'Neil's  generosity  in  affording  sanctuary  to  his 
defiant  mistress  struck  him  as  a  personal  affront, 
and  it  fanned  his  dislike  of  his  rival  into  a  consuming 

133 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

rage.  It  was  with  no  thought  of  profit  that  he 
cast  about  for  a  means  of  crippling  O'Neil.  He  was 
quite  capable  of  ruining  himself,  not  to  speak  of 
incidental  harm  to  others,  if  only  he  could  gratify 
his  spleen. 

Denny,  his  trusted  jackal,  resisted  stoutly  any 
move  against  "The  Irish  Prince,"  but  his  employer 
would  not  listen  to  him  or  consent  to  any  delay. 
Therefore,  a  certain  plausible,  shifty-eyed  individual 
by  the  name  of  Linn  was  despatched  to  Omar  on 
the  first  steamer.  Landing  at  his  destination,  Mr. 
Linn  quietly  effaced  himself,  disappearing  out  the 
right-of-way,  where  he  began  moving  from  camp  to 
camp,  ostensibly  in  search  of  employment. 

It  was  a  few  days  later,  perhaps  a  week  after 
O' Neil's  departure,  that  Eliza  Appleton  entered  the 
hospital  and  informed  Dr.  Gray : 

"I've  finished  my  first  story  for  The  Review." 

The  big  physician  had  a  rapid,  forceful  habit  of 
speech.  "Well,  I  suppose  you  uncorked  the  vitriol 
bottle,"  he  said,  brusquely. 

"No!  Since  you  are  now  the  fount  of  authority 
here,  I  thought  I'd  tell  you  that  I  have  reserved 
my  treachery  for  another  time.  I  haven't  learned 
enough  yet  to  warrant  real  fireworks.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  I've  been  very  kind  to  Mr.  O'Neil  in  my 
story." 

"Let  me  thank  you  for  him." 

"Now  don't  be  sarcastic!  I  could  have  said  a 
lot  of  nasty  things,  if  he  hadn't  been  so  nice  to 
me.  I  suppose  it  is  the  corrupting  influence  of  his 
kindness." 

"He  really  will  be  grateful,"  the  doctor  assured 
her,  seriously.  "Newspaper  publicity  of  the  wrong 

134 


THE  DOCTOR  SHOWS  HIS  WIT 

sort  might  hurt  him  a  great  deal  just  now.  In  every 
big  enterprise  there  comes  a  critical  time,  when 
everything  depends  upon  one  man;  strong  as  the 
structure  seems,  he's  really  supporting  it.  You  see, 
the  whole  thing  rests  ultimately  on  credit  and  confi 
dence.  An  ill-considered  word,  a  little  unfriendly 
shove,  and  down  comes  the  whole  works.  Then 
some  financial  power  steps  in,  reorganizes  the  wreck 
age,  and  gets  the  result  of  all  the  other  fellow's 
efforts,  for  nothing/' 

"Dan  tells  me  the  affairs  of  the  S.  R.  &  N.  are  in 
just  such  a  tottering  condition." 

"Yes.  We're  up  against  it,  for  the  time  being. 
Our  cards  are  on  the  table,  and  you  have  it  in 
your  power  to  do  us  a  lot  of  harm." 

"Don't  put  it  that  way!"  said  Eliza,  resentfully. 
"You  and  Mr.  O'Neil  and  even  Dan  make  it  hard 
for  me  to  do  my  duty.  I  won't  let  you  rob  me  of 
my  liberty.  I'll  get  out  and  'Siwash'  it  in  a  tent 
first." 

The  physician  laughed.  "Don't  mistake  leaf- 
mold  for  muck,  that's  all  we  ask.  O'Neil  is  per 
fectly  willing  to  let  you  investigate  him." 

*  *  Exactly !  And  I  could  bite  off  his  head  for  being 
so  nice  about  it.  Not  that  I've  discovered  anything 
against  him,  for  I  haven't — I  think  he's  fine — but 
I  object  to  the  principle  of  the  thing." 

"He'll  never  peep,  no  matter  what  you  do  or  say." 

"It  makes  me  furious  to  know  how  superior  he 
is.  I  never  detested  a  man's  virtues  as  I  do  his. 
Gordon  is  the  sort  I  like,  for  he  needs  exposing,  and 
expects  it.  Wait  until  I  get  at  him  and  the  Trustc" 

"The  Trust,  too,  eh?" 

"Of  course." 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"Now  what  have  the  Heidlemanns  done?" 

"It's  not  what  they  have  done;  it's  what  they're 
going  to  do.  They're  trying  to  grab  Alaska." 

Dr.  Gray  shook  his  head  impatiently,  but  before 
he  could  make  answer  Tom  Slater  entered  and  broke 
into  the  conversation  by  announcing: 

"I've  spotted  him,  Doc.  His  name  is  Linn, 
and  he's  Gordon's  hand.  He's  at  mile  24  and 
fifty  men  are  quitting  from  that  camp." 

"That  makes  two  hundred,  so  far,"  said  the  doctor. 

"He's  offering  a  raise  of  fifty  cents  a  day  and 
transportation  to  Hope." 

Gray  scowled  and  Eliza  inquired  quickly: 

"What's  wrong,  Uncle  Tom?" 

"Don't  call  me  'Uncle  Tom,'"  Slater  exclaimed, 
irritably;  "I  ain't  related  to  you." 

Miss  Appleton  smiled  at  him  sweetly.  "I  had  a 
dear  friend  once — you  remind  me  of  him,  he  was 
such  a  splendid  big  man,"  she  said. 

Tom  eyed  her  suspiciously. 

"He  chewed  gum  incessantly,  too,  and  declared 
that  it  never  hurt  anybody." 

"It  never  did,"  asserted  Slater. 

"We  pleaded,  we  argued,  we  did  our  best  to  save 
him,  but — "  She  shook  her  blond  head  sadly. 

"What  happened  to  him?" 

"What  always  happens?  He  lingered  along  for 
a  time,  stubborn  to  the  last,  then — "  Turning 
abruptly  to  Dr.  Gray,  she  asked,  "Who  is  this  man 
Linn,  and  what  is  he  doing?" 

"He's  an  emissary  of  Curtis  Gordon  and  he's 
hiring  our  men  away  from  us,"  snapped  the  physician. 

"Why,  Dan  tells  me  Mr.  O'Neil  pays  higher 
wages  than  anybody!" 

136 


THE  DOCTOR  SHOWS  HIS  WIT 

"So  he  does,  but  Linn  offers  a  raise.  We  didn't 
know  what  the  trouble  was  till  over  a  hundred  men 
had  quit.  The  town  is  full  of  them,  now,  and  it's 
becoming  a  stampede." 

''Can't  you  meet  the  raise?" 

"That  wouldn't  do  any  good." 

Tom  agreed.  "Gordon  don't  want  these  fellows. 
He's  doing  it  to  get  even  with  Murray  for  those 
wo — "  He  bit  his  words  in  two  at  a  glance  from 
Gray.  "What  happened  to  the  man  that  chewed 
gum?"  he  demanded  abruptly. 

"Oh  yes!  Poor  fellow!  We  warned  him  time 
and  again,  but  he  was  a  sullen  brute,  he  wouldn't 
heed  advice.  Why  don't  you  bounce  this  man 
Linn?  Why  don't  you  run  him  out  of  camp?" 

"Fine  counsel  from  a  champion  of  equal  rights!" 
smiled  Gray.  "You  forget  we  have  laws  and 
Gordon  has  a  press  bureau.  It  would  antagonize 
the  men  and  cause  a  lot  of  trouble  in  the  end.  What 
O'Neil  could  do  personally,  he  can't  do  as  the  presi 
dent  of  the  S.  R.  &  N.  It  would  give  us  a  black 
eye." 

"We've  got  to  do  something  dam'  quick,"  said 
Slater,  "or  else  the  work  will  be  tied  up.  That 
would  'crab1  Murray's  deal.  I've  got  a  pick- 
handle  that's  itching  for  Linn's  head."  The  speaker 
coughed  hollowly  and  complained:  "I've  got  a  bad 
cold  on  my  chest — feels  like  pneumonia,  to  me. 
Wouldn't  that  be  just  my  luck?" 

"Do  you  have  pains  in  your  chest?"  inquired  the 
girl,  solicitously. 

"Terrible!  But  I'm  so  full  of  pains  that  I  get 
used  to  'em.*' 

"It  isn't  pneumonia." 
10  137 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

Slater  flared  up  at  this,  for  he  was  jealous  of  his 
sufferings. 

"It's  gumbago!"  Eliza  declared. 

Dr.  Gray's  troubled  countenance  relaxed  into  a 
grin  as  he  said: 

"I'll  give  you  something  to  rub  on  those  leather 
lungs — harness-oil,  perhaps." 

"Is  this  labor  trouble  really  serious?"  asked  the 
girl. 

"Serious!  It  may  knock  us  out  completely.  Go 
away  now  and  let  me  think.  Pardon  my  rudeness, 
Miss  Appleton,  but — " 

Slater  paused  at  the  door. 

"Don't  think  too  long,  Doc,"  he  admonished  him, 
"for  there's  a  ship  due  in  three  days,  and  by  that 
time  there  won't  be  a  'rough-neck'  left  on  the  job. 
It  '11  take  a  month  to  get  a  new  crew  from  the  States, 
and  then  it  wouldn't  be  any  good  till  it  was  broke 
in." 

When  he  was  alone  the  doctor  sat  down  to  weigh 
the  news  "Happy  Tom"  had  brought,  but  the  more 
squarely  he  considered  the  matter  the  more  alarming 
it  appeared.  Thus  far  the  S.  R.  &  N.  had  been  re 
markably  free  from  labor  troubles.  To  permit  them 
to  creep  in  at  this  stage  would  be  extremely  perilous : 
the  briefest  cessation  of  work  might,  and  probably 
would,  have  a  serious  bearing  upon  O'Neil's  efforts 
to  raise  money.  Gray  felt  the  responsibility  of  his 
position  with  extraordinary  force,  for  his  chief's 
fortunes  had  never  suffered  in  his  hands  and  he  could 
not  permit  them  to  do  so  now.  But  how  to  meet 
this  move  of  Gordon's  he  did  not  know;  he  could 
think  of  no  means  of  keeping  these  men  at  Omar. 
As  he  had  told  Eliza,  to  meet  the  raise  would  be 

138 


THE    DOCTOR    SHOWS    HIS    WIT 

useless,  and  a  new  scale  of  wages  once  adopted  would 
be  hard  to  reduce.  Successful  or  unsuccessful  in  its 
effect,  it  would  run  into  many  thousands  of  dollars. 
The  physician  acknowledged  himself  dreadfully  per 
plexed;  he  racked  his  brain  uselessly,  yearning  mean 
while  for  the  autocratic  power  to  compel  obedience 
among  his  men.  He  would  have  forced  them  back 
to  their  jobs  had  there  been  a  way,  and  the  fact 
that  they  were  duped  only  added  to  his  anger. 

It  occurred  to  him  to  quarantine  the  town,  a 
thing  he  could  easily  do  as  port  physician  in  case 
of  an  epidemic,  but  Omar  was  unusually  healthy,  and 
beyond  a  few  surgical  cases  his  hospital  was  empty. 

His  meditations  were  interrupted  by  Tom  Slater, 
who  returned  to  say: 

"Give  me  that  dope,  Doc;  I'm  coughing  like  a 
switch  engine."  Gray  rose  and  went  to  the  shelves 
upon  which  his  drugs  were  arranged,  while  the  fat 
man  continued,  "That  Appleton  girl  has  got  me 
worried  with  her  foolishness.  Maybe  I  am  sick; 
anyhow,  I  feel  rotten.  What  I  need  is  a  good  rest 
and  a  nurse  to  wait  on  me." 

The  physician's  eyes  in  running  along  the  rows 
of  bottles  encountered  one  labeled  "Oleum  Tiglii," 
and  paused  there. 

"You  need  a  rest,  eh?"  he  inquired,  mechanically. 

"If  I  don't  get  one  I'll  wing  my  way  to  realms 
eternal.  I  ain't  been  dried  off  for  three  months." 
Gray  turned  to  regard  his  caller  with  a  speculative 
stare,  his  fingers  toyed  with  the  bottle.  "If  it 
wasn't  for  this  man  Linn  I'd  lay  off — I'd  go  to  jail 
for  him.  But  I  can't  do  anything,  with  one  foot 
always  in  the  grave." 

The  doctor's  face  lightened  with  determination. 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"Tom,  you've  been  sent  from  heaven!" 

"D'you  mean  I've  been  sent  for,  from  heaven?" 
The  invalid's  red  cheeks  blanched,  into  his  mournful 
eyes  leaped  a  look  of  quick  concern.  "Say!  Am 
I  as  sick  as  all  that?" 

"This  will  make  you  feel  better."  Gray  uncorked 
the  bottle  and  said,  shortly,  "Take  off  your  shirt." 

"What  for?" 

"I'm  going  to  rub  your  chest  and  arms." 

Slater  obeyed,  with  some  reluctance,  pausing  to 
inquire,  doubtfully: 

"You  ain't  stripping  me  down  so  you  can  operate?" 

"Nonsense!" 

"I'm  feeling  pretty  good  again." 

"It's  well  to  take  these  things  early.  They  all 
look  alike  at  the  beginning." 

"What  things?" 

"Grippe,  gumbago,  smallpox — " 

"God'lmighty!"  exclaimed  Slater  with  a  start. 
"I  haven't  got  anything  but  a  light  cold." 

"Then  this  liniment  ought  to  be  just  the  thing." 

"Humph!  It  don't  smell  like  liniment,"  Tom 
declared,  after  a  moment,  but  the  doctor  had  fallen 
to  work  on  him  and  he  submitted  with  resignation. 

Perhaps  an  hour  later  Dr.  Gray  appeared  at 
the  Appleton  bungalow  and  surprised  Eliza  by  say 
ing: 

"I've  come  to  you  for  some  help.  You're  the 
only  soul  in  Omar  that  I  can  trust." 

"Have  you  gone  raving  mad?"  she  inquired. 

"No.  I  must  put  an  end  to  Linn's  activity  or 
we'll  be  ruined.  These  workmen  must  be  held  in 
Omar,  and  you  must  help  me  do  it." 

"They  have  the  right  to  go  where  they  please." 
140 


THE  DOCTOR  SHOWS  HIS  WIT 

"Of  course,  but  Gordon  will  let  them  out  as  soon 
as  he  has  crippled  us.  Tell  me,  would  you  like  to 
be  a  trained  nurse?" 

"No,  I  would  not,"  declared  Eliza,  vehemently. 
"I'm  neither  antiseptic  nor  prophylactic." 

"Nevertheless,  you're  going  to  be  one — Tom  needs 
you." 

"Tom?    What  ails  him?" 

"Nothing  at  this  moment,  but — wait  until  to 
morrow."  The  physician's  eyes  were  twinkling,  and 
when  he  had  explained  the  cause  of  his  amusement 
Eliza  laughed. 

"Of  course  I'll  help,"  she  said.  "But  it  won't 
hurt  the  poor  fellow,  will  it?" 

"Not  in  the  least,  unless  it  frightens  him  to 
death.  Tom's  an  awful  coward  about  sickness; 
that's  why  I  need  some  one  like  you  to  take  care  of 
him.  He'll  be  at  the  hospital  to-morrow  at  three. 
If  you'll  arrange  to  be  there  we'll  break  the  news 
to  him  gently.  I  daren't  tackle  it  alone." 

Tom  was  a  trifle  embarrassed  at  finding  Eliza 
in  Dr.  Gray's  office  when  he  entered,  on  the  next 
afternoon.  The  boss  packer  seemed  different  than 
usual;  he  was  much  subdued.  His  cough  had  dis 
appeared,  but  in  its  place  he  suffered  a  nervous  ap 
prehension;  his  cheeks  were  pale,  the  gloom  in  his 
eyes  had  changed  to  a  lurking  uneasiness. 

"Just  dropped  in  to  say  I'm  all  right  again," 
he  announced  in  an  offhand  tone. 

1 '  That's  good !"  said  Gray.  ' '  You  don't  look  well, 
however." 

"I'm  feeling  fine!"  Mr.  Slater  hunched  his  shoul 
ders  as  if  the  contact  of  his  shirt  was  irksome  to  the 
flesh. 

141 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"You'd  better  let  me  rub  you.  Why  are  you 
scratching  yourself?" 

"I  ain't  scratching." 

"You  were!"  The  doctor  was  sternly  curious;  he 
had  assumed  his  coldest  and  most  professional  air. 

"Well,  if  I  scratched,  I  probably  itched.  That's 
why  people  scratch,  ain't  it?" 

"Let  me  look  you  over." 

"I  can't  spare  the  time,  Doc — " 

"Wait!"  Gray's  tone  halted  the  speaker  as  he 
turned  to  leave.  "I'm  not  going  to  let  you  out  in 
this  weather  until  I  rub  you." 

This  time  there  was  no  mistaking  "Happy  Tom's  " 
pallor.  "I  tell  you  I  feel  great,"  he  declared  in  a 
shaking  voice.  "I  haven't  felt  so  good  for  years." 

1 '  Come,  come !  Step  into  the  other  room  and  take 
off  your  shirt." 

"Not  on  your  life." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  don't  want  no  more  of  your  dam'  liniment." 

"Why?" 

"Because  I'm— because  I  don't." 

"Then  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  throw  and  hog- tie 
you."  The  physician  rose  and  laid  a  heavy  hand 
upon  his  patient's  arm,  at  which  Tom  exclaimed: 

"Ouch!  Leggo!  Gimme  the  stuff  and  I'll  rub 
myself." 

"Tom!"  The  very  gravity  of  the  speaker's  voice 
was  portentous,  alarming.  Mr.  Slater  hesitated,  his 
gaze  wavered,  he  scratched  his  chest  unconsciously. 

Eliza  shook  her  head  pityingly;  she  uttered  an 
inarticulate  murmur  of  concern. 

"You  couldn't  get  my  shirt  off  with  a  steam- 
winch.  I  tell  you  I'm  feeling  grand." 

142 


THE  DOCTOR  SHOWS  HIS  WIT 

"Why  will  you  chew  the  horrid  stuff?"  Miss 
Appleton  inquired  sadly. 

"I'm  just  a  little  broke  out,  that's  all." 

"Ah!  You're  broken  out.  I  feared  so,"  said  the 
doctor. 

The  grave  concern  in  those  two  faces  was  too 
much  for  Slater's  sensitive  nature;  his  stubbornness 
gave  way,  his  self-control  vanished,  and  he  confessed 
wretchedly : 

"I  spent  an  awful  night,  Doc.  I'll  bust  into 
flame  if  this  keeps  up.  What  is  it,  anyhow?" 

"Is  there  an  eruption  of  the  arms  and  chest?" 

"They're  all  erupted  to  hell." 

Dr.  Gray  silently  parted  the  shirt  over  Slater's 
bosom.  "Hm-m!"  said  he. 

"Tell  him  what  it  is,"  urged  Eliza,  in  whom  mirth 
and  pity  were  struggling  for  mastery. 

"It  has  every  appearance  of — smallpox!" 

The  victim  uttered  a  choking  cry  and  sat  down 
limply.  Sweat  leaped  out  upon  his  face,  beads 
appeared  upon  his  round  bald  head. 

"I  knew  I  was  a  sick  man.  I've  felt  it  coming 
on  for  three  months,  but  I  fought  it  off  for  Murray's 
sake.  Say  it's  chicken-pox,"  he  pleaded. 

"Never  mind;  it's  seldom  serious,"  Eliza  en 
deavored  to  comfort  the  stricken  man. 

"You  wanted  a  good  rest — 

"I  don't.     I  want  to  work." 

"I'll  have  to  quarantine  you,  Tom." 

Slater  was  in  no  condition  for  further  resistance; 
a  complete  collapse  of  body  and  mind  had  followed 
the  intelligence  of  his  illness.  He  began  to  complain 
of  many  symptoms,  none  of  which  were  in  any  way 
connected  with  his  fancied  disease.  He  was  racked 

U3 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

with  pains,  he  suffered  a  terrible  nausea,  his  head 
swam;  he  spoke  bravely  of  his  destitute  family  and 
prepared  to  make  his  will.  When  he  left  the  hospital, 
an  hour  later,  it  was  on  a  stretcher  between  four 
straining  bearers. 

That  evening  a  disturbing  rumor  crept  through 
the  town  of  Omar.  It  penetrated  the  crowded 
saloons  where  the  laborers  who  had  quit  work  were 
squandering  their  pay,  and  it  caused  a  brief  lull  in 
the  ribaldry;  but  the  mere  fact  that  Tom  Slater  had 
come  down  with  smallpox  and  had  been  isolated 
upon  a  fishing-boat  anchored  in  the  creek  seemed, 
after  all,  of  little  consequence.  Some  of  the  idlers 
strolled  down  the  street  to  stare  at  the  boat,  and 
upon  their  return  verified  the  report.  They  also 
announced  that  they  had  seen  the  yellow-haired 
newspaper  woman  aboard,  all  dressed  in  white.  It 
was  considered  high  time  by  the  majority  to  leave 
Omar,  for  an  epidemic  was  a  thing  to  be  avoided,  and 
a  wager  was  made  that  the  whole  force  would  quit 
in  a  body  as  soon  as  the  truth  became  known. 

On  the  second  day  Dr.  Gray  undertook  to  allay 
the  general  uneasiness,  but,  upon  being  pressed, 
reluctantly  acknowledged  that  his  patient  showed 
all  the  signs  of  the  dread  disease.  This  hastened 
the  general  preparations  for  departure,  and  when 
the  incoming  steamer  hove  in  sight  every  laborer 
was  at  the  dock  with  his  kit-bag.  It  excited  some 
idle  comment  among  them  to  note  that  Dr.  Gray 
had  gone  down  the  bay  a  short  distance  to  meet  the 
ship,  and  his  efforts  to  speak  it  were  watched 
with  interest  and  amusement.  Obviously  it  would 
have  been  much  easier  for  him  to  wait  until  she 
landed,  for  she  came  right  on  and  drew  in  toward 

144 


THE    DOCTOR    SHOWS    HIS    WIT 

the  wharf.  It  was  not  until  her  bow  line  was  made 
fast  that  the  physician  succeeded  in  hailing  the 
captain.  Then  the  deserters  were  amazed  to  hear 
the  following  conversation: 

"I  can't  let  you  land,  Captain  Johnny,"  came  from 
Dr.  Gray's  launch. 

"And  why  can't  you?"  demanded  Brennan  from 
the  bridge  of  his  new  ship.  "Have  you  some  preju 
dice  against  the  Irish?"  The  stern  hawser  was 
already  being  run  out,  and  the  crowd  was  edging 
closer,  waiting  for  the  gangplank. 

"There  is  smallpox  here,  and  as  health  officer 
I've  quarantined  the  port." 

There  came  a  burst  of  Elizabethan  profanity  from 
the  little  skipper,  but  it  was  drowned  by  the  shout 
from  shore  as  the  full  meaning  of  the  situation 
finally  came  home.  Then  the  waiting  men  made  a 
rush  for  the  ship.  She  had  not  touched  as  yet, 
however,  and  the  distance  between  her  and  the  pier 
was  too  great  to  leap.  Above  the  confusion  came 
Brennan's  voice,  through  a  megaphone,  commanding 
them  to  stand  back.  Some  one  traitorously  cast 
off  the  loop  of  the  bow  line,  the  ship's  propellers 
began  to  thrash,  and  the  big  steel  hull  backed 
away  inch  by  inch,  foot  by  foot,  until,  amid  curses 
and  cries  of  rage,  she  described  a  majestic  circle  and 
plowed  off  up  the  sound  toward  Hope. 

By  a  narrow  margin  the  physician  reached  his 
hospital  ahead  of  the  infuriated  mob,  and  it  was 
well  that  he  did  so,  for  they  were  in  a  lynching 
mood.  But,  once  within  his  own  premises,  he  made 
a  show  of  determined  resistance  that  daunted  them, 
and  they  sullenly  retired.  That  night  Omar  rang 
with  threats  and  deep-breathed  curses,  and  Eliza 

US 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

Appleton,  in  the  garb  of  a  nurse,  tended  her  patient 
cheerfully. 

To  the  delegation  which  waited  upon  him  the 
next  morning,  Dr.  Gray  explained  the  nature  of  his 
duties  as  health  officer,  informing  them  coolly  that 
no  living  soul  could  leave  Omar  without  incurring 
legal  penalties.  Since  he  could  prevent  any  ships 
from  landing,  and  inasmuch  as  the  United  States 
marshal  was  present  to  enforce  the  quarantine,  he 
seemed  to  be  master  of  the  situation. 

"How  long  will  we  be  tied  up?"  demanded  the 
spokesman  of  the  party. 

"That  is  hard  to  say." 

"Well,  we're  going  to  leave  this  camp!"  the  man 
declared,  darkly. 

' '  Indeed  ?     Where  are  you  going  ?" 

"We're  going  to  Hope.  You  might  as  well  let 
us  go.  We  won't  stand  for  this." 

The  physician  eyed  him  coldly.  ''You  won't? 
May  I  ask  how  you  are  going  to  help  yourselves?" 

"We're  going  to  leave  on  the  next  steamer." 

"Oh,  no  you're  not!"  the  marshal  spoke  up. 

"See  here,  Doc!  There's  over  two  hundred  of  us 
and  we  can't  stay  here;  we'll  go  broke." 

Gray  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders.  "Sorry,"  he 
said,  "but  you  see  I've  no  choice  in  the  matter.  I 
never  saw  a  case  of  smallpox  that  looked  worse." 

"It's  a  frame-up,"  growled  the  spokesman.  "Tom 
hasn't  got  smallpox  any  more  than  I  have.  You 
cooked  it  to  keep  us  here."  There  was  an  angry 
second  to  this,  whereupon  the  doctor  exclaimed: 

"You  think  so,  eh?    Then  just  come  with  me." 

"Where?" 

"Out  to  the  boat  where  he  is.  I'll  show  you." 
14.6 


THE  DOCTOR  SHOWS  HIS  WIT 

"You  won't  show  me  no  smallpox,"  asserted  one 
of  the  committee. 

"Then  you  come  with  me,"  the  physician  urged 
the  leader. 

' '  So  you  can  bottle  me  up,  too  ?     No,  thank  you !' ' 

"Get  the  town  photographer  with  his  flashlight. 
We'll  help  him  make  a  picture;  then  you  can  show 
it  to  the  others.  I  promise  not  to  quarantine 
you." 

After  some  hesitation  the  men  agreed  to  this; 
the  photographer  was  summoned  and  joined  the 
party  on  its  way  to  the  floating  pest-house. 

It  was  not  a  pleasant  place  in  which  they  found 
Tom  Slater,  for  the  cabin  of  the  fishing-boat  was 
neither  light  nor  airy,  but  Eliza  had  done  much 
to  make  it  agreeable.  The  sick  man  was  propped 
up  in  his  bunk  and  playing  solitaire,  but  he  left  off 
his  occupation  to  groan  as  the  new-comers  came 
alongside. 

When  the  cause  of  the  visit  had  been  made  known, 
however,  he  rebelled. 

"I  won't  pose  for  no  camera  fiend,"  he  declared, 
loudly.  "It  ain't  decent  and  I'm  too  sick.  D'you 
take  me  for  a  bearded  lady  or  a  living  skeleton?" 

"These  men  think  you're  stalling,"  Dr.  Gray 
told  him. 

"Who?  Me?"  Slater  rolled  an  angry  eye  upon 
the  delegation.  "I  ain't  sick,  eh?  I  s'pose  I'm 
doing  this  for  fun?  I  wish  you  had  it,  that's  all." 

The  three  members  of  the  committee  of  investiga 
tion  wisely  halted  at  the  foot  of  the  companionway 
stairs  where  the  fresh  air  fanned  them;  they  were 
nervous  and  ill  at  ease. 

Drawing  his  covers  closer,  Slater  shouted: 
147 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"Close  that  hatch,  you  bone-heads!  I'm  blowing 
away!" 

The  photographer  ventured  to  remonstrate. 

"It's  mighty  close  in  here,  Doc.  Is  it  safe  to 
breathe  the  bugs?" 

"Perfectly  safe,"  Gray  assured  him.  "At  least 
Miss  Appleton  hasn't  suffered  yet." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  the  patient  betrayed  no  symp 
toms  of  a  wasting  illness,  for  his  cheeks  were  ruddy, 
he  had  eaten  three  hearty  meals  each  day,  and  the 
enforced  rest  had  done  him  good,  so  the  committee 
saw  nothing  about  him  to  satisfy  their  suspicions. 
But  when  Tom  weakly  called  upon  them  for  assist 
ance  in  rising  they  shrank  back  and  one  of  them 
exclaimed: 

"I  wouldn't  touch  you  with  a  fish-pole." 

Eliza  came  forward,  however;  she  permitted  her 
charge  to  lean  upon  her  while  she  adjusted  the 
pillows  at  his  back;  but  when  Dr.  Gray  ordered 
him  to  bare  his  breast  and  arms  Slater  refused  posi 
tively.  He  blushed,  he  stammered,  he  clutched  his 
nightrobe  with  a  horny  hand  which  would  have 
required  a  cold  chisel  to  loosen,  and  not  until  Eliza 
had  gone  upon  deck  would  he  consent  to  expose  his 
bulging  chest. 

But  Miss  Appleton  had  barely  left  the  cabin  when 
she  was  followed  by  the  most  timid  member  of  the 
delegation.  He  plunged  up  the  stairs,  gasping: 

"I've  saw  enough!     He's  got  it,  and  got  it  bad." 

A  moment  later  came  the  dull  sound  of  the  ex 
ploding  flashlight,  then  a  yell,  and  out  of  the  smoke 
stumbled  his  two  companions.  The  spokesman,  it 
appeared,  had  also  seen  enough — too  much — for 
with  another  yell  he  leaped  the  rail  and  made  for 

148 


THE    DOCTOR    SHOWS    HIS    WIT 

shore.  Fortunately  the  tide  was  out  and  the  water 
low;  he  left  a  trail  across  the  mud  flat  like  that  of  a 
frightened  hippopotamus. 

When  the  two  conspirators  were  finally  alone  upon 
the  deck  they  rocked  in  each  other's  arms,  striving 
to  stifle  their  laughter.  Meanwhile  from  the  interior 
of  the  cabin  came  the  feeble  moans  of  the  invalid. 

That  evening  hastily  made  photographs  of  the 
sick  man  were  shown  upon  the  streets.  Nor  could 
the  most  skeptical  deny  that  he  presented  a  revolting 
sight  and  one  warranting  Dr.  Gray's  precautions. 
In  spite  of  this  evidence,  however,  threats  against 
the  physician  continued  to  be  made  freely ;  but  when 
Eliza  expressed  fears  for  his  safety  he  only  smiled 
grimly,  and  he  stalked  through  the  streets  with  such 
defiance  written  on  his  heavy  features  that  no  man 
dared  raise  a  hand  against  him. 

Day  after  day  the  quarantine  continued,  and  at 
length  some  of  the  men  went  back  to  work.  As 
others  exhausted  their  wages  they  followed.  In  a 
fortnight  Omar  was  once  more  free  of  its  floating 
population  and  work  at  the  front  was  going  forward 
as  usual.  Meanwhile  the  patient  recovered  in  mar 
velous  fashion  and  was  loud  in  his  thanks  to  the 
physician  who  had  brought  him  through  so  speedily. 
Yet  Gray  stubbornly  refused  to  raise  the  embargo. 

Finally  the  cause  of  the  whole  trouble  appeared 
at  the  hospital  and  begged  to  be  released. 

"You  put  it  over  me,"  said  Mr.  Linn.  "I've 
had  enough  and  I  want  to  get  out." 

"I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about," 
answered  the  doctor.  "No  one  can  leave  here 
now." 

"I  know  it  wasn't  smallpox  at  all,  but  it  worked 

149 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

just  the  same.     I'll  leave  your  men  alone  if  you'll 
let  me  go  out  on  the  next  Seattle  steamer." 

"But — I  thought  you  came  from  Hope?"  Gray 
said,  blandly. 

Mr.  Linn  shifted  his  eyes  and  laughed  uneasily. 
"I  did,  and  I'm  going  to  keep  coming  from  Hope. 
You  don't  think  I'd  dare  to  go  back  after  this,  do 
you?" 

"Why  not?" 

"Gordon  would  kill  me." 

"  So !     Mr.  Gordon  sent  you  ?" 

"You  know  he  did.  But — I've  got  to  get  out 
now.  I'm  broke." 

"1  didn't  think  it  of  Gordon!"  The  doctor  shook 
his  head  sadly.  "How  underhanded  of  him!" 

Linn  exploded  desperately:  "Don't  let's  four- 
flush.  You  were  too  slick  for  him,  and  you  sewed 
me  up.  I've  spent  the  money  he  gave  me  and  now 
I'm  flat." 

"You  look  strong.     We  need  men." 

Gordon's  emissary  turned  pale.  "Say!  You 
wouldn't  set  me  to  work?  Why,  those  men  would 
string  me  up." 

"I  think  not.  I've  spoken  to  the  shift  boss  at 
mile  30,  and  he'll  take  care  you're  not  hurt  so  long 
as  you  work  hard  and  keep  your  mouth  shut." 

An  hour  later  Mr.  Linn,  cursing  deeply,  shouldered 
his  pack  and  tramped  out  the  grade,  nor  could  he 
obtain  food  or  shelter  until  he  had  covered  those 
thirty  weary  miles.  Once  at  his  destination,  he  was 
only  too  glad  to  draw  a  numbered  tag  and  fall  to 
work  with  pick  and  shovel,  but  at  his  leisure  he 
estimated  that  it  would  take  him  until  late  the 
following  month  to  earn  his  fare  to  the  States. 

150 


XI 

THE    TWO    SIDES    OF    ELIZA   VIOLET   APPLETON 

DAN    APPLETON    entered    the   bungalow   one 
evening,  wet  and  tired  from  his  work,  to  find 
Eliza  pacing  the  floor  in  agitation. 

"What's  the  matter,  Sis?"  he  inquired,  with  quick 
concern. 

His  sister  pointed  to  a  copy  of  The  Review  which 
that  day's  mail  had  brought. 

' '  Look  at  that !"  she  cried.     ' ' Read  it !" 

"Oh!     Your  story,  eh?" 

"Read  it!" 

He  read  a  column,  and  then  glanced  up  to  find 
her  watching  him  with  angry  eyes. 

"Gee!  That's  pretty  rough  on  the  chief,  Kid. 
I  thought  you  liked  him,"  he  said,  gravely. 

"I  do!  I  do!  Don't  you  understand,  dummy? 
I  didn't  write  that!  They've  changed  my  story- 
distorted  it.  I'm — furious!" 

Dan  whistled  softly.  "I  didn't  suppose  they'd 
try  anything  like  that,  but — they  did  a  good  job 
while  they  were  at  it.  Why,  you'd  think  O'Neil  was 
a  grafter  and  the  S.  R.  &  N.  nothing  but  a  land- 
grabbing  deal." 

"How  dared  they?"  the  girl  cried.  "The  ac!ual 
changes  aren't  so  many — just  enough  to  alter  the 
effect  of  the  story — but  that's  what  makes  it  so 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

devilish.  For  instance,  I  described  the  obstacles 
and  the  handicaps  Mr.  O'Neil  has  had  to  overcome 
in  order  to  show  the  magnitude  of  his  enterprise,  but 
Drake  has  altered  it  so  that  the  physical  conditions 
here  seem  to  be  insuperable  and  he  makes  me  say 
that  the  road  is  doomed  to  failure.  That's  the  way 
he  changed  it  all  through." 

"It  may  topple  the  chief's  plans  over;  they're 
very  insecure.  It  plays  right  into  the  hands  of  his 
enemies,  too,  and  of  course  Gordon's  press  bureau 
will  make  the  most  of  it." 

"Heavens!  I  want  sympathy,  not  abuse!"  wailed 
his  sister.  "It's  all  due  to  the  policy  of  The  Review. 
Drake  thinks  everybody  up  here  is  a  thief.  I  dare 
say  they  are,  but —  How  can  I  face  Mr.  O'Neil?" 

Dan  shook  the  paper  in  his  fist.  "Are  you  going 
to  stand  for  this?"  he  demanded. 

"Hardly!  I  cabled  the  office  this  morning,  and 
here's  Drake's  answer."  She  read: 

"'Stuff  colorless.  Don't  allow  admiration  warp 
judgment. '  Can  you  beat  that  ? ' ' 

"He  thinks  you've  surrendered  to  Murray,  like 
all  the  others." 

' '  I  hate  him !"  cried  Eliza.     ' '  I  detest  him !' ' 

"Who?     O'Neil  or  Drake?" 

"Both.  Mr.  O'Neil  for  putting  me  in  the  position 
of  a  traitor,  and  Drake  for  presuming  to  rewrite  my 
stuff.  I'm  going  to  resign,  and  I'm  going  to  leave 
Omar  before  Murray  O'Neil  comes  back." 

"Don't  be  a  quitter,  Sis.  If  you  throw  up  the 
job  the  paper  will  send  somebody  who  will  lie  about 
us  to  suit  the  policy  of  the  office.  Show  'em  where 
they're  wrong;  show  'em  what  this  country  needs. 
You  have  your  magazine  stories  to  write." 

152 


THE   TWO    SIDES    OF    ELIZA 

Eliza  shook  her  head.  ' '  Bother  the  magazines  and 
the  whole  business!  I'm  thinking  about  Mr.  O'Neil. 
I — I  could  cry.  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  stay  and 
explain  to  him,  but — then  I'll  go  home." 

"No!  You'll  stay  right  here  and  go  through  with 
this  thing.  I  need  you." 

"You?    What  for?" 

"You  can  perform  a  great  and  a  signal  service  for 
your  loving  brother.  He's  in  terrible  trouble!" 

"What's  wrong,  Danny?"  Eliza's  anger  gave 
instant  place  to  solicitude.  "You  —  you  haven't 
stolen  anything?" 

"Lord,  no!     What  put  that  into  your  head?" 

"I  don't  know — except  that's  the  worst  thing  that 
could  happen  to  us.  I  like  to  start  with  the  worst." 

"I  can't  sulk  in  the  jungle  any  more.  I'm  a 
rotten  loser,  Sis." 

"Oh!    You  mean— Natalie?    You— like  her?" 

"For  a  writer  you  select  the  most  foolish  words! 
Like,  love,  adore,  worship — words  are  no  good,  any 
way.  I'm  dippy;  I'm  out  of  my  head;  I've  lost  my 
reason.  I'm  deliriously  happy  and  miserably  un 
happy.  I — " 

"That's  enough!"  the  girl  exclaimed.  "I  can 
imagine  the  rest." 

"  It  was  a  fatal  mistake  for  her  to  come  to  Omar, 
and  to  this  very  house,  of  all  places,  where  I  could 
see  her  every  day.  I  might  have  recovered  from  the 
first  jolt  if  I'd  never  seen  her  again,  but — "  He 
waved  his  hands  hopelessly.  "I'm  beginning  to  hate 
O'Neil." 

"You  miserable  traitor!"  gasped  Eliza. 

"Yep!  That's  me!  I'm  dead  to  loyalty,  lost  to 
the  claims  of  friendship.  I've  fought  myself  until 
u  i53 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

I'm  black  in  the  face,  but — it's  no  use.     I  must  have 
Natalie!" 

"She's  crazy  about  O'Neil." 

"Seems  to  be,  for  a  fact,  but  that  doesn't  alter 
my  fix.  I  can't  live  this  way.  You  must  help  me 
or  I'll  lose  my  reason." 

"Nonsense!  You  haven't  any  or  you  wouldn't 
talk  like  this.  What  can  I  do?" 

"It's  simple!  Be  nice  to  Murray  and — and  win 
him  away  from  her." 

Eliza  stared  at  him  as  though  she  really  believed 
him  daft.  Then  she  said,  mockingly: 

"Is  that  all?    Just  make  him  love  me?" 

Dan  nodded.  "That  would  be  fine,  if  you  could 
manage  it." 

' '  Why — you — you — I — ' '  She  gasped  uncertainly 
for  terms  in  which  to  voice  her  indignant  surprise. 
"Idiot!"  she  finally  exclaimed. 

"Thanks  for  such  glowing  praise,"  Dan  said,  for 
lornly.  ' '  I  feel  a  lot  worse  than  an  idiot.  An  idiot 
is  not  necessarily  evil;  at  heart  he  may  be  likable, 
and  pathetic,  and  merely  unfortunate — " 

"You  simply  can't  be  in  earnest!" 

"I  am,  though!"  He  turned  upon  her  eyes  which 
had  grown  suddenly  old  and  weary  with  longing. 

"You  poor,  foolish  boy!  In  the  first  place,  Mr. 
O'Neil  will  hate  me  for  this  story.  In  the  second 
place,  no  man  would  look  at  me.  I'm  ugly — " 

"I  think  you're  beautiful." 

"With  my  snub  nose,  and  big  mouth,  and — " 

"You  can  make  him  laugh,  and  when  a  woman 
can  make  a  fellow  laugh  the  rest  is  easy." 

"In  the  third  place  I'm  mannish  and — vulgar, 
and  besides — I  don't  care  for  him." 

154 


THE   TWO    SIDES    OF   ELIZA 

"Of  course  you  don't,  or  I  wouldn't  ask  it.  You 
see,  we're  taking  no  risks!  You  can  at  least  take 
up  his  attention  and — and  when  you  see  him  making 
for  Natalie  you  can  put  out  your  foot  and  trip  him 
up." 

"It  wouldn't  be  honorable,  Danny." 

"Possibly!  But  that  doesn't  make  any  difference 
with  me.  You  may  as  well  realize  that  I've  got 
beyond  the  point  where  nice  considerations  of  that 
sort  weigh  with  me.  If  you'd  ever  been  in  love 
you'd  understand  that  such  things  don't  count  at 
all.  It's  your  chance  to  save  the  reason  and  happi 
ness  of  an  otherwise  perfectly  good  brother." 

"There  is  nothing  I  wouldn't  do  for  your  happi 
ness — nothing.  But —  Oh,  it's  preposterous !" 

.  Dan  relapsed  into  gloomy  silence,  and  they  had  a 
very  uncomfortable  meal.  Unable  to  bear  his  contin 
ued  lack  of  spirits,  Eliza  again  referred  to  the  subject, 
and  tried  until  late  in  the  evening  to  argue  him  out 
of  his  mood.  But  the  longer  they  talked  the  more 
plainly  she  saw  that  his  feeling  for  Natalie  was  not 
fanciful,  but  sincere  and  deep.  She  continued  to 
scout  his  suggestion  that  she  could  help  him  by  cap 
tivating  O'Neil,  and  stoutly  maintained  that  she  had 
no  attraction  for  men;  nevertheless,  when  she  went 
to  her  room  she  examined  herself  critically  in  her 
mirror.  This  done,  she  gave  herself  over  to  her 
favorite  relaxation. 

First  she  exchanged  her  walking- skirt,  her  prim 
shirtwaist  and  jacket,  for  a  rose  -  pink  wrapper 
which  she  furtively  brought  out  of  a  closet.  It  was 
a  very  elaborate  wrapper,  all  fluffy  lace  and  ruffles 
and  bows,  and  it  had  cost  Eliza  a  sum  which  she 
strove  desperately  to  forget.  She  donned  silk  stock- 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

ings  and  a  pair  of  tiny  bedroom  slippers;  then  seating 
herself  once  more  at  her  dresser,  she  let  down  her 
hair.  She  invariably  wore  it  tightly  drawn  back — 
so  tightly,  in  fact,  that  Dan  had  more  than  once 
complained  that  it  pulled  her  eyebrows  out  of  place. 
On  this  occasion,  however,  she  crimped  it,  she  curled 
it,  she  brought  it  forward  about  her  face  in  soft 
riotous  puffs  and  strands,  patting  it  into  becoming 
shape  with  dexterous  fingers  until  it  formed  a  golden 
frame  for  her  piquant  features. 

Now  this  was  no  unusual  performance  for  her. 
In  the  midnight  solitude  of  her  chamber  she  regularly 
gave  rein  to  the  feminine  side  of  her  nature.  By 
day  she  was  the  severe,  matter-of-fact,  businesslike 
Eliza  Appleton,  deaf  to  romance,  lost  to  illusion, 
and  unresponsive  to  masculine  attention;  but  deep 
in  her  heart  were  all  the  instincts  and  longings  of 
femininity,  and  at  such  times  as  this  they  came 
uppermost.  Her  bedroom  had  none  of  the  Puri 
tanical  primness  which  marked  her  habit  of  dress; 
it  was  in  no  way  suggestive  of  the  masculine  charac 
ter  which  she  so  proudly  paraded  upon  the  street. 
On  the  contrary,  it  was  a  bower  of  daintiness,  and 
was  crowded  with  all  the  senseless  fripperies  of  a 
school -girl.  Carefully  hidden  away  beneath  her 
starched  shirtwaists  was  much  lingerie — bewildering 
creations  to  match  the  pink  wrapper — and  this  she 
petted  and  talked  to  adoringly  when  no  one  could 
hear. 

Eliza  read  much  when  she  was  unobserved- 
romances  and  improbable  tales  of  fine  ladies  and 
gallant  squires.  There  were  times,  too,  when  she 
wrote,  chewing  her  pencil  in  the  perplexities  of  vividly 
colored  love  scenes;  but  she  always  destroyed  these 


THE   TWO    SIDES    OF    ELIZA 

manuscripts  before  the  curious  sun  could  spy  upon 
her  labors.  In  such  ecstatic  flights  of  fancy  the 
beautiful  heroine  was  a  languorous  brunette  with 
hair  of  raven  hue  and  soulful  eyes  in  which  slumbered 
the  mystery  of  a  tropic  night.  She  had  a  Grecian 
nose,  moreover,  and  her  name  was  Violet. 

From  all  this  it  may  be  gathered  that  Eliza  Apple- 
ton  was  by  no  means  the  extraordinary  person  she 
seemed.  Beneath  her  false  exterior  she  was  shame 
lessly  normal. 

In  the  days  before  O' Neil's  return  she  suffered 
constant  misgivings  and  qualms  of  conscience,  but 
the  sight  of  her  brother  reveling,  expanding,  fairly 
bursting  into  bloom  beneath  the  influence  of  Natalie 
Gerard  led  her  to  think  that  perhaps  she  did  have  a 
duty  to  perform.  Dan's  cause  was  hers,  and  while 
she  had  only  the  faintest  hope  of  aiding  it,  she  was 
ready  to  battle  for  his  happiness  with  every  weapon 
at  her  command.  The  part  she  would  have  to  play 
was  not  exactly  nice,  she  reflected,  but — the  ties  of 
sisterhood  were  strong  and  she  would  have  made 
any  sacrifice  for  Dan.  She  knew  that  Natalie  was 
fond  of  him  in  a  casual,  friendly  way,  and  although 
it  was  evident  that  the  girl  accorded  him  none  of 
that  hero-worship  with  which  she  favored  his  chief, 
Eliza  began  to  think  there  still  might  be  some  hope 
for  him.  Since  we  are  all  prone  to  argue  our  con 
sciences  into  agreement  with  our  desires,  she  finally 
brought  herself  to  the  belief  that  O'Neil  was  not  the 
man  for  Natalie.  He  was  too  old,  too  confirmed  in 
his  ways,  and  too  self-centered  to  make  a  good 
husband  for  a  girl  of  her  age  and  disposition.  Once 
her  illusions  had  been  rubbed  away  through  daily 
contact  with  him,  she  would  undoubtedly  awaken 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

to  his  human  faults,  and  unhappiness  would  result 
for  both.  What  Natalie  needed  for  her  lasting  con 
tentment  was  a  boy  her  own  age  whose  life  would 
color  to  match  hers.  So  argued  Eliza  with  that 
supreme  satisfaction  which  we  feel  in  arranging  the 
affairs  of  others  to  suit  ourselves. 

She  was  greatly  embarrassed,  nevertheless,  when 
she  next  met  O'Neil  and  tried  to  explain  that  story 
in  The  Review.  He  listened  courteously  and  smiled 
his  gentle  smile. 

"My  dear,"  said  he,  finally,  "I  knew  there  had 
been  some  mistake,  so  let's  forget  that  it  ever 
happened.  Now  tell  me  about  the  smallpox  epi 
demic.  When  I  heard  what  Linn  was  doing  with  our 
men  I  was  badly  worried,  for  I  couldn't  see  how  to 
checkmate  him,  but  it  seems  you  and  Doc  were 
equal  to  the  occasion.  He  cabled  me  a  perfectly 
proper  announcement  of  Tom's  quarantine,  and  I 
believed  we  had  been  favored  by  a  miracle." 

"It  wasn't  a  miracle  at  all,"  Eliza  said  in  a  matter- 
of-fact  tone;  "it  was  croton  oil.  Nobody  has  dared 
tell  him  the  truth.  He  still  believes  he  could  smell 
the  tuberoses." 

O'Neil  seemed  to  derive  great  amusement  from  her 
account  of  what  followed.  He  had  already  heard 
Dr.  Gray's  version  of  the  affair,  but  Eliza  had  a  re 
freshing  way  of  saying  things. 

"I  brought  you  a  little  present,"  he  said  when  she 
had  finished. 

She  took  the  package  he  handed  her,  exclaiming 
with  a  slight  flush  of  embarrassment,  "A  s'prise! 
Nobody  but  Dan  ever  gave  me  a  present."  Then 
her  eyes  darkened  with  suspicion.  "Did  you  bring 
me  this  because  of  what  I  did?" 

158 


THE   TWO   SIDES    OF    ELIZA 

"Now  don't  be  silly!  I  knew  nothing  about  your 
part  in  the  comedy  until  Doc  told  me.  You  are 
a  most  difficult  person." 

Slowly  she  unwrapped  the  parcel,  and  then  with  a 
gasp  lifted  a  splendidly  embroidered  kimono  from  its 
box. 

"Oh-h!"  Her  eyes  were  round  and  astonished. 
"Oh-h!  It's  for  me!" 

It  was  a  regal  garment  of  heavy  silk,  superbly 
ornamented  with  golden  dragons,  each  so  cunningly 
worked  that  it  seemed  upon  the  point  of  taking  wing. 
"Why,  their  eyes  glitter!  And — they'd  breathe  fire 
if  I  jabbed  them.  Oh-h!"  She  stared  at  the  gift  in 
helpless  amazement.  "Is  it  mine,  honestly?" 

He  nodded.     "Won't  you  put  it  on?" 

"Over  these  things?  Never!"  Again  Miss  Ap- 
pleton  blushed,  for  she  recalled  that  she  had  prepared 
for  his  coming  with  extraordinary  care.  Her  boots 
were  even  stouter  than  usual,  her  skirt  more  plain, 
her  waist  more  stiff,  and  her  hair  more  tightly 
smoothed  back.  "It  would  take  a  fluffy  person  to 
wear  this.  I'll  always  keep  it,  of  course,  and — 
I'll  worship  it,  but  I'm  not  designed  for  pretty 
clothes.  I'll  let  Natalie  wear—" 

"Natalie  has  one  of  her  own,  done  in  butterflies, 
and  I  brought  one  to  her  mother  also." 

"And  you  bought  this  for  me  after  you  had  seen 
that  fiendish  story  over  my  signature?" 

"Certainly!"  He  quickly  forestalled  her  at 
tempted  thanks  by  changing  the  subject.  "Now 
then,  Dan  tells  me  you  are  anxious  to  begin  your 
magazine-work,  so  I'm  going  to  arrange  for  you  to  see 
the  glaciers  and  the  coal-fields.  It  will  be  a  hard 
trip,  for  the  track  isn't  through  yet,  but — " 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"Oh,  I'll  take  care  of  myself;  •!  won't  get  in  any 
body's  way,"  she  said,  eagerly. 

"I  intend  to  see  that  you  don't,  by  going  with 
you;  so  make  your  preparations  and  we'll  leave  as 
soon  as  I  can  get  away." 

When  he  had  gone  the  girl  said,  aloud: 

"Eliza  Voilet,  this  is  your  chance.  It's  under 
handed  and  mean,  but — you're  a  mean  person,  and 
the  finger  of  Providence  is  directing  you."  She 
snatched  up  the  silken  kimono  and  ran  into  her 
room,  locking  the  door  behind  her.  Hurriedly  she 
put  it  on,  then  posed  before  the  mirror.  Next  down 
came  her  hair  amid  a  shower  of  pins.  She  arranged 
it  loosely  about  her  face,  and,  ripping  an  artificial 
flower  from  her  "party"  hat,  placed  it  over  her  ear, 
then  swayed  grandly  to  and  fro  while  the  golden 
dragons  writhed  and  curved  as  if  in  joyous  admira 
tion.  A  dozen  times  she  slipped  out  of  the  garment 
and,  gathering  it  to  her  face,  kissed  it ;  a  dozen  times 
she  donned  it,  strutting  about  her  little  room  like  a 
peacock.  Her  tip-tilted  nose  was  red  and  her  eyes 
were  wet  when  at  last  she  laid  it  out  upon  her  bed 
and  knelt  with  her  cheek  against  it. 

"Gee!  If  only  I  were  pretty!"  she  sighed.  "I 
almost  believe  he — likes  me." 

Tom  Slater  laboriously  propelled  himself  up  the 
hill  to  the  bungalow  that  evening,  and  seated  himself 
on  the  topmost  step  near  where  Eliza  was  rocking. 
She  had  come  to  occupy  a  considerable  place  in  his 
thoughts  of  late,  for  she  was  quite  beyond  his  un 
derstanding.  She  affected  him  as  a  mental  gad-fly, 
stinging  his  mind  into  an  activity  quite  unusual.  At 
times  he  considered  her  a  nice  girl,  though  undoubt 
edly  insane ;  then  there  were  other  moments  when  she 

1 60 


THE    TWO    SIDES    OF    ELIZA 

excited  his  deepest  Animosity.  Again,  on  rare  occa 
sions  she  completely  upset  all  his  preconceived  no 
tions  by  being  so  friendly  and  so  sympathetic  that 
she  made  him  homesick  for  his  own  daughter.  In 
his  idle  hours,  therefore  he  spent  much  time  at  th 
Appleton  cottage. 

" Where  have  you  been  lately,  Uncle  Tom?"  she 
began. 

Slater  winced  at  the  appellation,  but  ignored  it. 

"I've  been  out  on  the  delta  hustling  supplies  ahead. 
Heard  the  news?" 

"No." 

' '  Curtis  Gordon  has  bought  the  McDermott  out 
fit  in  Kyak." 

1 '  That  tells  me  nothing.     Who  is  McDermott  ?" 

"He's  a  shoe-stringer.  He  had  a  wildcat  plan 
to  build  a  railroad  from  Kyak  to  the  coal-fields,  but 
he  never  got  farther  than  a  row  of  alder  stakes  and 
a  book  of  press  clippings." 

"Does  that  mean  that  Gordon  abandons  his 
Hope  route?" 

"Yep!  He's  swung  in  behind  us  and  the  Heidle- 
manns.  Now  it's  a  three-sided  race,  with  us  in  the 
lead.  Mellen  just  brought  in  the  news  half  an  hour 
ago ;  he  was  on  his  way  down  from  the  glaciers  when 
he  ran  into  a  field  party  of  Gordon's  surveyors. 
Looks  like  trouble  ahead  if  they  try  to  crowd  through 
the  canon  alongside  of  us." 

"He  must  believe  Kyak  Bay  will  make  a  safe 
harbor." 

"Don't  say  it!  If  he's  right,  we're  fried  to 
a  nice  brown  finish  on  both  sides  and  it's  time 
to  take  us  off  the  stove.  I'm  praying  for  a 
storm." 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

'"The  prayers  of  the  wicked  are  an  abomination 
unto  the  Lord,"'  quoted  Eliza. 

"Sure!  But  I  keep  right  on  praying  just  the 
same.  It's  a  habit  now.  The  news  has  set  the 
chief  to  jumping  sideways." 

"Which,  translated,  I  suppose  means  that  he  is 
disturbed." 

"Or  words  to  that  effect!  Too  bad  they  changed 
that  newspaper  story  of  yours." 

"Yes." 

"It  put  a  crimp  in  him." 

"How — do  you  mean?" 

"He  had  some  California  capitalists  tuned  up  to 
put  in  three  million  dollars,  but  when  they  read 
that  our  plan  was  impracticable  their  fountain-pens 
refused  to  work." 

"Oh!"  Eliza  gasped,  faintly. 

Slater  regarded  her  curiously,  then  shook  his  head. 
"Funny  how  a  kid  like  you  can  scare  a  bunch  of 
hard-headed  bankers,  ain't  it?"  he  said.  "Doc 
Gray  explained  that  it  wasn't  your  fault,  but — it 
doesn't  take  much  racket  to  frighten  the  big  fish." 

"What  will  Mr.  O'Neil  do?" 

"Oh,  he'll  fight  it  out,  I  s'pose.  The  first  thing 
is  to  block  Gordon.  Say,  I  brought  you  a  present." 

"This  is  my  lucky  day,"  smiled  Eliza  as  Tom 
fumbled  in  his  pocket.  "I'm  sure  I  shall  love  it." 

"It  ain't  much,  but  it  was  the  best  in  the  crate 
and  I  shined  it  up  on  my  towel."  Mr.  Slater  handed 
Eliza  a  fine  red  apple  of  prodigious  size,  at  sight  of 
which  the  girl  turned  pale. 

"I — don't  like  apples,"  she  cried,  faintly. 

"Never  mind;  they're  good  for  your  complexion/* 

"I'd  die  before  I'd  eat  one." 

162 


THE   TWO    SIDES    OF    ELIZA 

"Then  I'll  eat  it  for  you;  my  complexion  ain't 
what  it  was  before  I  had  the  smallpox."  When  he 
had  carried  out  this  intention  and  subjected  his  teeth 
to  a  process  of  vacuum-cleaning,  he  asked:  ''Say, 
what  happened  to  your  friend  who  chewed  gum?" 

"Well,  he  was  hardly  a  friend,"  Miss  Appleton 
said.  "If  he  had  been  a  real  friend  he  would  have 
listened  to  my  warning." 

"Gum  never  hurt  anybody,"  Slater  averred,  argu- 
mentatively. 

"Not  ordinary  gum.  But  you  see,  he  chewed 
nothing  except  wintergreen — " 

"That's  what  I  chew." 

Eliza's  tone  was  one  of  shocked  amazement.  ' '  Not 
really?  Oh,  well,  some  people  would  thrive  on  it,  I 
dare  say,  but  he  had  indigestion." 

"Me  too!    That's  why  I  chew  it." 

The  girl  eyed  him  during  an  uncomfortable  pause. 
Finally  she  inquired: 

"Do  you  ever  feel  a  queer,  gnawing  feeling,  like 
hunger,  if  you  go  without  your  breakfast?" 

1 '  Unh-hunh !     Don't  you  ?" 

"I  wouldn't  alarm  you  for  the  world,  Uncle  Tom — " 

"I  ain't  your  uncle!" 

"You  might  chew  the  stuff  for  years  and  not  feel 
any  bad  effects,  but  if  you  wake  up  some  morning 
feeling  tired  and  listless — " 

"I've  done  that,  too."  Slater's  gloomy  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  her  with  a  look  of  vague  apprehension. 
"Is  it  a  symptom?" 

"Certainly!  Pepsin-poisoning,  it's  called.  This 
fellow  I  told  you  about  was  a  charming  man,  and 
since  we  had  all  tried  so  hard  to  save  him,  we  felt 
terribly  at  the  end." 

163 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"Then  he  died?" 

"Um-m!  Yes  and  no.  Remind  me  to  tell  you 
the  story  sometime —  Here  comes  Dan,  in  a  great 
hurry." 

Young  Appleton  came  panting  up  the  hill. 

"Good-by,  Sis,"  he  said.  "I'm  off  for  the  front 
in  ten  minutes." 

"Anybody  hurt?"  Slater  asked  quickly. 

"Not  yet,  but  somebody's  liable  to  be.  Gordon 
is  trying  to  steal  the  canon,  and  Murray  has 
ordered  me  out  with  a  car  of  dynamite  to  hold  it." 

"Dynamite!  Why,  Dan!"  his  sister  exclaimed  in 
consternation. 

"We  have  poling-boats  at  the  lower  crossing  and 
we'll  be  at  the  canon  in  two  days.  I'm  going  to 
load  the  hillside  with  shots,  and  if  they  try  to  come 
through  I'll  set  'em  off.  They'll  never  dare  tackle 
it."  Dan's  eyes  were  dancing;  his  face  was  alive 
with  excitement. 

"But  suppose  they  should?"  Eliza  insisted,  quietly. 

"Then  send  Doc  Gray  with  some  stretchers. 
I  owe  one  to  Gordon,  and  this  is  my  chance. ' '  Draw 
ing  her  aside,  he  said  in  an  undertone.  "You've 
got  to  hold  my  ground  with  Natalie  while  I'm  gone. 
Don't  let  her  see  too  much  of  Murray." 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can,"  she  answered  him,  "but 
if  he  seems  to  be  in  earnest  I'll  renig,  no  matter 
what  happens  to  you,  Danny." 

He  kissed  her  affectionately  and  fled. 


XII 

HOW   GORDON   FAILED   IN   HIS   CUNNING 

"PHE  so  -  called  canon  of  the  Salmon  River  lies 
A  just  above  the  twin  glaciers.  Scenically,  these 
are  by  far  the  more  impressive,  and  they  present  a 
more  complex  engineering  problem;  yet  the  canon 
itself  was  the  real  strategic  point  in  the  struggle 
between  the  railroad  -  builders.  The  floor  of  the 
valley  immediately  above  Garfield  glacier,  though 
several  miles  wide,  was  partly  filled  with  detritus 
which  had  been  carried  down  from  the  mother  range 
on  the  east,  and  this  mass  of  debris  had  forced  the 
stream  far  over  against  the  westward  rim,  where 
it  came  roaring  past  the  foot  wall  in  a  splendid 
cataract  some  three  miles  long.  To  the  left  of  the 
river,  looking  up-stream  at  this  point,  the  mountains 
slanted  skyward  like  a  roof,  until  lost  in  the  hurrying 
scud  four  thousand  feet  above.  To  the  right,  how 
ever,  was  the  old  moraine,  just  mentioned,  consisting 
of  a  desolate  jumble  of  rock  and  gravel  and  silt 
overlaying  the  ice  foot.  On  account  of  its  broken 
character  and  the  unstable  nature  of  its  foundation 
this  bank  was  practically  useless  for  road-building, 
and  the  only  feasible  route  for  steel  rails  was  along 
the  steep  west  wall. 

O'Neil  on  his  first  reconnaissance  had  perceived 
that  while  there  was  room  for  more  than  one  bridge 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

across  the  Salmon  between  the  upper  and  the  lower 
ice  masses,  there  was  not  room  for  more  than  one 
track  alongside  the  rapids,  some  miles  above  that 
point.  He  knew,  moreover,  that  once  he  had 
established  his  title  to  a  right-of-way  along  the  west 
rim  of  the  cataract,  it  would  be  difficult  for  a  rival 
to  oust  him,  or  to  parallel  his  line  without  first  cross 
ing  back  to  the  east  bank — an  undertaking  at  once 
hazardous  and  costly.  He  had  accordingly  given 
Dan  Appleton  explicit  instructions  to  be  very  careful 
in  filing  his  survey,  that  no  opportunity  might  be 
left  open  for  a  later  arrival.  The  engineer  had  done 
his  work  well,  and  O'Neil  rested  secure  in  the  belief 
that  he  held  possession  of  the  best  and  least  expen 
sive  route  through  to  the  open  valleys  above.  He 
had  had  no  cause  to  fear  a  clash  with  the  Heidlemann 
forces,  for  they  had  shown  a  strict  regard  for  his 
rights  and  seemed  content  to  devote  themselves 
to  developing  their  terminus  before  trying  to  nego 
tiate  the  canon.  They  were  wise  in  taking  this 
<  ourse,  for  their  success  would  mean  that  O' Neil's 
project  would  fall  of  its  own  weight.  Kyak  was 
nearer  Seattle,  by  many  miles,  than  Omar;  it  was 
closer  to  the  coal  and  copper  fields,  and  the  proven 
permanence  of  then*  breakwater  would  render  useless 
further  attempts  to  finance  the  S.  R.  &  N. 

But  in  the  entrance  of  Curtis  Gordon  into  the  field 
O'Neil  recognized  danger.  Gordon  was  swayed  by 
no  such  business  scruples  as  the  Heidlemanns;  he 
was  evidently  making  a  desperate  effort  to  secure  a 
footing  at  any  cost.  In  purchasing  the  McDermott 
holdings  he  had  executed  a  coup  of  considerable 
importance,  for  he  had  placed  himself  on  equal  foot 
ing  with  the  Trust  and  in  position  to  profit  by  its 

1 66 


HOW    GORDON    FAILED 

efforts  at  harbor-building  without  expense  to  himself. 
If,  therefore,  he  succeeded  in  wresting  from  O'Neil 
the  key  to  that  upper  passageway,  he  would  be  able 
to  block  his  personal  enemy  and  to  command  the 
consideration  of  his  more  powerful  rival. 

No  one,  not  even  the  Trust,  had  taken  the 
McDermott  enterprise  seriously,  but  with  Curtis 
Gordon  in  control  the  ''wildcat"  suddenly  became 
a  tiger. 

In  view  of  all  this,  it  was  with  no  easy  mind  that 
O'Neil  despatched  Appleton  to  the  front,  and  it  was 
with  no  small  responsibility  upon  his  shoulders  that 
the  young  engineer  set  out  in  charge  of  those  wooden 
boxes  of  dynamite.  Murray  had  told  him  frankly 
what  hung  upon  his  success,  and  Dan  had  vowed 
to  hold  the  survey  at  any  cost. 

Steam  was  up  and  the  locomotive  was  puffing 
restlessly  when  he  returned  from  his  farewell  to 
Eliza.  A  moment  later  and  the  single  flat  car 
carrying  his  party  and  its  dangerous  freight  was 
being  whirled  along  the  shores  of  Omar  Lake.  On 
it  rushed,  shrieking  through  the  night,  out  from  the 
gloomy  hills  and  upon  the  tangent  that  led  across  the 
delta.  Ten  minutes  after  it  had  rolled  forth  upon 
the  trestle  at  the  "lower  crossing"  the  giant  powder 
had  been  transferred  to  poling-boats  and  the  long 
pull  against  the  current  had  begun. 

O'Neil  had  picked  a  crew  for  Dan,  men  upon  whom 
he  could  depend.  They  were  on  double  pay,  and 
as  they  had  worked  upon  the  North  Pass  & 
Yukon,  Appleton  had  no  doubt  of  their  loyalty. 

The  events  of  that  trip  were  etched  upon  the  en 
gineer's  mind  with  extraordinary  vividness,  for  they 
surpassed  in  peril  and  excitement  all  his  previous 

167 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

experiences.  The  journey  resembled  nothing  but 
the  mad  scramble  of  a  gold  stampede.  The  stub 
born  boats  with  their  cargoes  which  had  to  be  so 
gently  handled,  the  ever-increasing  fury  of  the  river, 
the  growing  menace  of  those  ghastly,  racing  ice 
bergs,  the  taut-hauled  towing-lines,  and  the  straining, 
sweating  men  in  the  loops,  all  made  a  picture  hard 
to  forget.  Then,  too,  the  uncertainty  of  the  enter 
prise,  the  crying  need  of  haste,  the  knowledge  of 
those  other  men  converging  upon  the  same  goal, 
lent  a  gnawing  suspense  to  every  hour.  It  was 
infinitely  more  terrible  than  that  first  expedition 
when  he  and  Tom  Slater  and  O'Neil  had  braved  the 
unknown.  It  was  vastly  more  trying  than  any  of 
the  trips  which  had  followed,  even  with  the  winter 
hurricane  streaming  out  of  the  north  as  from  the 
mouth  of  a  giant  funnel. 

Dan  had  faced  death  in  various  forms  upon  this 
delta  during  the  past  year  and  a  half.  He  had  seen 
his  flesh  harden  to  marble  whiteness  under  the  raging 
north  wind;  his  eyes  and  lungs  had  been  drifted  full 
of  sand  in  summer  storms  which  rivaled  those  of  the 
Sahara.  With  transit  on  his  back  he  had  come  face 
to  face  with  the  huge  brown  grizzly.  He  had  slept 
in  mud,  he  had  made  his  bed  on  moss  which  ran 
water  like  a  sponge;  he  had  taken  danger  and  hard 
ship  as  they  came — yet  never  had  he  punished  him 
self  as  on  this  dash. 

Through  his  confusion  of  impressions,  his  intense 
preoccupation  with  present  dangers  and  future  con 
tingencies,  the  thought  of  Natalie  floated  now  and 
then  vaguely  but  comfortingly.  He  had  seen  her 
for  a  moment,  before  leaving — barely  long  enough 
to  explain  the  nature  of  his  mission — but  her  quick 

1 68 


HOW    GORDON    FAILED 

concern,  her  unvoiced  anxiety,  had  been  very  pleas 
ant,  and  he  could  not  believe  that  it  was  altogether 
due  to  her  interest  in  the  fortunes  of  O'Neil. 

Dan  knew  that  Mellen's  crew  was  camped  at  the 
upper  crossing,  busied  in  drilling  for  the  abutments 
and  foundations  of  the  bridge;  but  he  reasoned  that 
they  would  scarcely  suspect  the  object  of  Gordon's 
party  and  that,  in  any  case,  they  were  not  organized 
or  equipped  to  resist  it.  Moreover,  the  strategic 
point  was  four  miles  above  the  bridge  site,  and  the 
surveying  corps  would  hardly  precipitate  a  clash, 
particularly  since  there  was  ample  room  for  them 
to  select  a  crossing-place  alongside. 

It  was  after  midnight  of  the  second  day  when  he 
and  his  weary  boatmen  stumbled  into  sight  of  the 
camp.  Appleton  halted  his  command  and  stole 
forward,  approaching  the  place  through  the  tangled 
alders  which  flanked  it.  He  had  anticipated  that 
the  rival  party  would  be  up  to  this  point  by  now, 
if  not  even  farther  advanced,  and  he  was  both  angered 
and  relieved  to  sight  the  tops  of  other  tents  pitched 
a  few  hundred  yards  beyond  Mellen's  outfit.  So 
they  were  here!  He  had  arrived  in  time,  after  all! 
A  feeling  of  exultation  conquered  the  deathly  fatigue 
that  slowed  his  limbs.  Although  he  still  had  to  pass 
the  invader's  camp  and  establish  himself  at  the 
canon,  the  certainty  that  he  had  made  good  thus 
far  was  ample  reward  for  his  effort. 

A  dog  broke  into  furious  barking  as  he  emerged 
from  cover,  and  he  had  a  moment's  anxiety  lest 
it  serve  as  warning  to  the  enemy;  but  a  few  quick 
strides  brought  him  to  the  tent  of  Mellen's  foreman. 
Going  in,  he  roused  the  man,  who  was  sleeping 
soundly. 

12 


THE   IRON   TRAIL 

"Hello!"  cried  the  foreman,  jumping  up  and  rub 
bing  his  eyes.  "I  thought  Curtis  Gordon  had  taken 
possession/' 

"Hush!    Don't  wake  them  up,"  Dan  cautioned. 

"Oh,  there's  no  danger  of  disturbing  them  with 
this  infernal  cannonading  going  on  all  the  time." 
The  night  resounded  to  a  rumbling  crash  as  some 
huge  mass  of  ice  split  off,  perhaps  two  miles  away. 

"When  did  they  arrive?" 

"Night  before  last.  They've  located  right  along 
side  of  us.  Gee!  we  were  surprised  when  they 
showed  up.  They  expect  to  break  camp  in  the 
morning."  He  yawned  widely. 

"Hm-m!  They're  making  tracks,  aren't  they? 
Were  they  friendly?" 

"Oh,  sure!  So  were  we.  There  was  nothing  else 
to  do,  was  there?  We  had  no  orders." 

"I  have  two  dozen  men  and  four  boatloads  of 
dynamite  with  me.  I'm  going  to  hold  that  moun 
tainside." 

"Then  you're  going  to  fight!"  All  vestige  of 
drowsiness  had  fled  from  the  man's  face. 

"Not  if  we  can  help  it.  Who  is  in  charge  of  this 
crew?" 

"Gordon  himself." 

"Gordon!" 

"Yes!    And  he's  got  a  tough  gang  with  him." 

"Armed?" 

"Sure!    This  is  a  bear  country,  you  know." 

"Listen!  I  want  you  to  tell  him,  as  innocently 
as  you  can,  that  we're  on  the  job  ahead  of  him. 
Tell  him  we've  been  there  for  a  week  and  have  loaded 
that  first  rock  shoulder  and  expect  to  shoot  it  off  as 
soon  as  possible.  You  can  tell  him,  too,  that  I'm 

170 


HOW    GORDON    FAILED 

up  there  and  he'd  better  see  me  before  trying  to 
pass  through." 

"I've  got  you!     But  that  won't  stop  him." 

"Perhaps!     Now  have  you  any  grub  in  camp?" 

"No." 

"We  threw  ours  overboard,  to  make  time.  Send 
up  anything  you  can  spare;  we're  played  out." 

"It  '11  be  nothing  but  beans,  and  they're  moldy." 

"We  can  fight  on  beans,  and  we'll  eat  the  paper 
off  those  giant  cartridges  if  we  have  to.  Don't 
fail  to  warn  Gordon  that  the  hillside  is  mined,  and 
warn  him  loud  enough  for  his  swampers  to  hear." 

Appleton  hastened  back  to  his  boats,  where  he 
found  his  men  sprawled  among  the  boulders  sleep 
ing  the  sleep  of  complete  exhaustion.  They  were 
drenched,  half  numbed  by  the  chill  air  of  the  glacier, 
and  it  was  well  that  he  roused  them. 

"Gordon's  men  are  camped  just  above,"  he  told 
them.  "But  we  must  get  through  without  waking 
them.  No  talking,  now,  until  we're  safe." 

Silently  the  crew  resumed  their  tow-lines,  fitting 
them  to  their  aching  shoulders;  gingerly  the  boats 
were  edged  out  into  the  current. 

It  was  fortunate  that  the  place  was  noisy,  and 
that  the  voice  of  the  river  and  the  periodic  bombard 
ment  from  the  glaciers  drowned  the  rattle  of  loose 
stones  dislodged  by  their  footsteps.  But  it  was  a 
trying  half -hour  that  followed.  Dan  did  not  breathe 
easily  until  his  party  had  crossed  the  bar  and  were 
safely  out  upon  the  placid  waters  of  the  lake,  with 
the  last  stage  of  the  journey  ahead  of  them. 

About  mid-forenoon  of  the  following  day  Curtis 
Gordon  halted  his  party  at  the  lower  end  of  the  rapids 
and  went  on  alone.  To  his  right  lay  the  cataract 

171 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

and  along  the  steep  slope  against  which  it  chafed 
wound  a  faint  footpath  scarcely  wide  enough  in 
places  for  a  man  to  pass.  This  trail  dipped  in  and 
out,  wound  back  and  forth  around  frowning  promon 
tories.  It  dodged  through  alder  thickets  or  spanned 
slides  of  loose  rock,  until,  three  miles  above,  it 
emerged  into  the  more  open  country  back  of  the 
parent  range.  It  had  been  worn  by  the  feet  of  wild 
animals  and  it  followed  closely  the  right-of-way  of 
the  S.  R.  &  N.  To  the  left  the  hills  rose  swiftly  in 
great  leaps  to  the  sky;  to  the  right,  so  close  that  a 
false  step  meant  disaster,  roared  the  cataract,  muddy 
and  foam-flecked. 

As  Gordon  neared  the  first  bluff  he  heard,  above 
the  clamor  of  the  flood,  a  faint  metallic  "tap-tap- 
tap,"  as  of  hammer  and  drill,  and,  drawing  closer,  he 
saw  Dan  Appleton  perched  upon  a  rock  which  com 
manded  a  view  in  both  directions.  Just  around  the 
shoulder,  in  a  tiny  gulch,  or  gutter  from  the  slopes 
above,  were  pitched  several  tents,  from  one  of  which 
curled  the  smoke  of  a  cook-stove.  Close  at  hand 
were  moored  four  battered  poling-boats. 

"Look  out!"  Appleton  shouted  from  on  high. 

Gordon  flushed  angrily  and  kept  on,  scanning  the 
surroundings  with  practised  eye. 

1 ' Hey,  you !"  Dan  called,  for  a  second  time.  ' '  Keep 
back!  We're  going  to  shoot." 

Still  heedless  of  the  warning,  Gordon  held  stub 
bornly  to  his  stride.  He  noted  the  heads  of  several 
men  projecting  from  behind  boulders,  and  his  anger 
rose.  How  dared  this  whipper-snapper  shout  at 
him!  He  felt  inclined  to  toss  the  insolent  young 
scoundrel  into  the  rapids.  Then  suddenly  his 
resentment  gave  place  to  a  totally  different  emotion, 

T7? 


HOW    GORDON    FAILED 

The  slanting  bank  midway  between  him  and  Apple- 
ton  lifted  itself  bodily  in  a  chocolate-colored  up 
heaval,  and  the  roar  of  a  dynamite  blast  rolled  out 
across  the  river.  It  was  but  a  feeble  echo  of  the 
majestic  reverberations  from  the  glacier  across  the 
lake,  but  it  was  impressive  enough  to  send  Curtis 
Gordon  scurrying  to  a  place  of  safety.  He  wheeled 
in  his  tracks,  doubling  himself  over,  and  his  long 
legs  began  to  thresh  wildly.  Reaching  the  shelter 
of  a  rock  crevice,  he  hurled  himself  into  it,  while  over 
his  place  of  refuge  descended  a  shower  of  dirt  and 
rocks  and  debris.  When  the  rain  of  missiles  had  sub 
sided  he  stepped  forth,  his  face  white  with  fury, 
his  big  hands  twitching.  His  voice  was  hoarse  as  he 
shouted  his  protest. 

Appleton  scrambled  carefully  down  from  his 
perch  in  the  warm  sunshine  and  approached  with 
insolent  leisure. 

"Say!  Do  you  want  to  get  your  fool  self  killed?" 
he  cried;  then  in  an  altered  tone:  "Oh!  Is  it  you, 
Gordon?" 

' '  You  knew  very  well  it  was  I. "  Gordon  swallowed 
hard  and  partially  controlled  his  wrath.  "What 
do  you  mean  by  such  carelessness?"  he  demanded. 
"You  ought  to  be  hung  for  a  thing  like  that."  He 
brushed  the  dirt  from  his  expensive  hunting-suit. 

"I  yelled  my  head  off!     You  must  be  deaf." 

"You  saw  me  coming!  Don't  say  you  didn't. 
Fortunately  I  wasn't  hurt."  In  a  tone  of  command 
he  added,  "You'll  have  to  stop  blasting  until  I  go 
through  with  my  party." 

" Sorry!  Every  day  counts  with  us."  Appleton 
grinned.  "You  know  how  it  is — short  season,  and 
all  that." 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"Come,  come!  Don't  be  an  idiot.  I  have  no 
time  to  waste/' 

"Then  you'll  have  to  go  around,"  said  Dan. 
"This  isn't  a  public  road,  you  know." 

Gordon  had  come  to  argue,  to  pacify,  to  gain  his 
ends  by  lying,  if  necessary,  but  this  impudent  jack 
anapes  infuriated  him.  His  plans  had  gone  smoothly 
so  far,  and  the  unexpected  threat  of  resistance  mo 
mentarily  provoked  him  beyond  restraint. 

"You  scoundrel,"  he  cried.  "You'd  have  blown 
me  into  the  river  if  you  could.  But  I'll  go  through 
this  canon — " 

"Go  as  far  and  as  fast  as  you  like,"  Dan  inter 
rupted  with  equal  heat,  "only  take  your  own 
chances,  and  have  a  net  spread  at  the  lower  end  of 
the  rapids  to  catch  the  remains." 

They  eyed  each  other  angrily;  then  Gordon  said, 
more  quietly : 

"This  is  ridiculous.     You  can't  stop  me." 

"Maybe  I  can't  and  maybe  I  can.  I'm  under 
orders  to  rush  this  work  and  I  don't  intend  to  knock 
off  to  please  you.  I've  planted  shots  at  various 
places  along  our  right-of-way  and  I'll  set  'em  off 
when  it  suits  me.  If  you're  so  anxious  to  go  up- 
river,  why  don't  you  cross  over  to  the  moraine? 
There's  a  much  better  trail  on  that  side.  You'll 
find  better  walking  a  few  miles  farther  up,  and 
you'll  run  no  danger  of  being  hurt." 

"I  intend  to  run  a  survey  along  this  hillside." 

"There  isn't  room;  we  beat  you  to  it." 

"The  law  provides—" 

'  *  Law  ?  Jove !  I'd  forgotten  there  is  such  a  thing. 
Why  don't  you  go  to  law  and  settle  the  question  that 
way?  We'll  have  our  track  laid  by  the  time  you  get 

T74 


HOW   GORDON    FAILED 

action,  and  I'm  sure  Mr.  O'Neil  wouldn't  place  any 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  your  free  passage  back  and 
forth.  He's  awfully  obliging  about  such  things." 

Gordon  ground  his  fine,  white,  even  teeth.  ' '  Don't 
you  understand  that  I'm  entitled  to  a  right-of-way 
through  here  under  the  law  of  common  user?"  he 
asked,  with  what  patience  he  could  command. 

"If  you're  trying  to  get  a  legal  opinion  on  the 
matter  why  don't  you  see  a  lawyer?  I'm  not  a 
lawyer,  neither  am  I  a  public  speaker  nor  a  piano- 
tuner,  nor  anything  like  that — I'm  an  engineer." 

"Don't  get  funny.  I  can't  send  my  men  in  here  if 
you  continue  blasting." 

"So  it  seems  to  me,  but  you  appear  to  be  hell  bent 
on  trying  it." 

Dan  was  enjoying  himself  and  he  deliberately 
added  to  the  other's  anger  by  inquiring,  as  if  in  the 
blinding  light  of  a  new  idea : 

"Why  don't  you  bridge  over  and  go  up  the  other 
side?"  He  pointed  to  the  forbidding,  broken  coun 
try  which  faced  them  across  the  rapids. 

Gordon  snorted.  "How  long  do  you  intend  to 
maintain  this  preposterous  attitude?"  he  asked. 

"As  long  as  the  powder  lasts — and  there's  a  good 
deal  of  it." 

The  promoter  chewed  his  lip  for  a  moment  in 
perplexity,  then  said  with  a  geniality  he  was  far 
from  feeling: 

"Appleton,  you're  all  right!  I  admire  your  loy 
alty,  even  though  it  happens  to  be  for  a  mistaken 
cause.  I  always  liked  you.  I  admire  loyalty — 
it's  something  I  need  in  my  business.  What  I  need 
I  pay  for,  and  I  pay  well." 

"So  your  man  Linn  told  us." 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"I  never  really  discharged  you.  In  fact,  I  in 
tended  to  re-employ  you,  for  I  need  you  badly.  You 
can  name  your  own  salary  and  go  to  work  any  time." 

"In  other  words,  you  mean  you'll  pay  me  well  to 
let  you  through." 

"Fix  your  own  price  and  I'll  double  it." 

"Will  you  come  with  me  up  this  trail  a  little  way?" 
Dan  inquired. 

"Certainly." 

"There's  a  spot  where  I'd  like  to  have  you  stand. 
I'll  save  you  the  trouble  of  walking  back  to  your  men 
— -you'll  beat  the  echo." 

There  was  a  pause  while  Gordon  digested  this. 
"Better  think  it  over,"  he  said  at  length.  "I'll 
never  let  O'Neil  build  his  road,  not  if  it  breaks  me, 
and  you're  merely  laying  yourself  open  to  arrest  by 
threatening  me." 

' '  Please  come  with  me !"  urged  Appleton.  ' '  You'll 
never  know  what  hit  you." 

With  a  curse  the  promoter  wheeled  and  walked 
swiftly  down  the  trail  by  which  he  had  come. 

"Get  ready  to  shoot,"  Dan  ordered  when  he  had 
returned  to  his  vantage  -  point.  A  few  moments 
later  he  saw  the  invading  party  approach,  but  he 
withheld  his  warning  shout  until  it  was  close  at 
hand.  Evidently  Gordon  did  not  believe  he  would 
have  the  reckless  courage  to  carry  out  his  threat, 
and  had  determined  to  put  him  to  the  test. 

The  engineer  gauged  his  distance  nicely,  and  when 
the  new-comers  had  fairly  passed  within  the  danger 
zone  he  gave  the  signal  to  fire. 

A  blast  heavier  than  the  one  which  had  dis 
couraged  Gordon's  advance  followed  his  command, 
and  down  upon  the  new-comers  rained  a  deluge  which 

176 


HOW    GORDON    FAILED 

sent  them  scurrying  to  cover.     Fortunately  no  one 
was  injured. 

An  hour  later  the  invaders  had  pitched  camp  a 
mile  below,  and  after  placing  a  trusted  man  on  guard 
Appleton  sent  his  weary  men  to  bed. 

It  was  Curtis  Gordon  himself  who  brought  O'Neil 
the  first  tidings  of  this  encounter,  for,  seeing  the 
uselessness  of  an  immediate  attempt  to  overcome 
Dan's  party  by  force,  he  determined  to  make  formal 
protest.  He  secured  a  boat,  and  a  few  hours  later 
the  swift  current  swept  him  down  to  the  lower  cross 
ing,  where  McKay  put  a  locomotive  at  his  disposal 
for  the  trip  to  Omar.  By  the  time  he  arrived  there 
he  was  quite  himself  again,  suave,  self-possessed,  and 
magnificently  outraged  at  the  treatment  he  had  re 
ceived.  O'Neil  met  him  with  courtesy. 

"Your  man  Appleton  has  lost  his  head,"  Gordon 
began.  "I've  come  to  ask  you  to  call  him  off." 

"He  is  following  instructions  to  the  letter." 

Do  you  mean  that  you  refuse  to  allow  me  to  run 
my  right-of-way  along  that  hillside?  Impossible!" 
His  voice  betokened  shocked  surprise. 

"I  am  merely  holding  my  own  survey.  I  can't 
quit  work  to  accommodate  you." 

"But,  my  dear  sir,  I  must  insist  that  you  do." 

O'Neil  shrugged. 

"Then  there  is  but  one  way  to  construe  your 
refusal — it  means  that  you  declare  war." 

"You  saved  me  that  necessity  when  you  sent 
Linn  to  hire  my  men  away." 

Gordon  ignored  this  reference.  "You  must  real 
ize,  O'Neil,"  said  he,  "that  I  am  merely  asking  what 
is  mine.  I  have  the  right  to  use  that  canonside — 
the  right  to  use  your  track  at  that  point,  in  fact,  if  it 

177 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

proves  impracticable  to  parallel  it — under  the  law 
of  common  user.  You  are  an  experienced  con 
tractor;  you  must  be  familiar  with  that  law." 

"  Yes.  I  looked  it  up  before  beginning  operations, 
and  I  found  it  has  never  been  applied  to  Alaska." 

Gordon  started.     ' '  That's  a  ridiculous  statement. " 

"Perhaps,  but  it's  true.  Alaska  is  not  a  territory, 
it's  a  district,  and  it  has  its  own  code.  Until  the 
law  of  common  user  has  been  applied  here  you'll  have 
to  use  the  other  side  of  the  river." 

"That  would  force  me  to  bridge  twice  in  passing 
the  upper  glacier.  We  shall  see  what  the  courts  have 
to  say." 

"Thanks!    I  shall  be  grateful  for  the  delay." 

Gordon  rose  with  a  bow.  The  interview  had  been 
short  and  to  the  point.  O'Neil  put  an  engine  at  his 
service  for  the  return  trip,  and  after  a  stiff  adieu  the 
visitor  departed,  inwardly  raging. 

It  was  his  first  visit  to  Omar,  and  now  that  he  was 
here  he  determined  to  see  it  all.  But  first  another 
matter  demanded  his  attention — a  matter  much  in 
his  mind  of  late,  concerning  which  he  had  reached  a 
more  or  less  satisfactory  decision  during  his  journey. 

He  went  directly  to  the  new  hotel  and  inquired  for 
Gloria  Gerard. 

Beneath  the  widow's  coldness  when  she  came  to 
meet  him  he  detected  an  uncertainty,  a  frightened 
indecision  which  assured  him  of  success,  and  he  set 
himself  to  his  task  with  the  zest  he  always  felt  in 
bending  another  to  his  will. 

' '  It  has  been  the  greatest  regret  of  my  life  that  we 
quarreled,"  he  told  her  when  their  strained  greeting 
was  over.  "I  felt  that  I  had  to  come  and  see  with 
my  own  eyes  that  you  are  well." 

178 


HOW    GORDON    FAILED 

"I  am  quite  well." 

"Two  people  who  have  been  to  each  other  as 
much  as  we  have  been  cannot  lightly  separate ;  their 
lives  cannot  be  divided  without  a  painful  readjust 
ment."  He  paused,  then  reflecting  that  he  could 
afford  a  little  sentimental  extravagance,  added, 
"  Flowers  cannot  easily  be  transplanted,  and  love, 
after  all,  is  the  frailest  of  blooms." 

"I — think  it  is  perennial.  Have  you — missed 
me?"  Her  dark  eyes  were  strained  and  curious. 

"My  dear,  you  can  never  know  how  much,  nor 
how  deeply  distressing  this  whole  affair  has  been  to 
me."  He  managed  to  put  an  affecting  pathos  into 
words  sufficiently  banal,  for  he  was  an  excellent  actor. 
"I  find  that  I  am  all  sentiment.  Under  the  shell  of 
the  hard-headed  business  man  beats  the  heart  of  a 
school-boy.  The  memory  of  the  hours  we  have  spent 
together,  the  places  we  have  seen,  the  joys  and  dis 
couragements  we  have  shared,  haunts  me  con 
stantly.  Memory  can  glean  but  never  renew: 
'joy's  recollection  is  no  longer  joy  while  sorrow's 
memory  is  sorrow  still." 

The  spell  of  his  personality  worked  strongly  upon 
her,  "Recollection  is  the  only  paradise  from  which 
we  cannot  be  turned  out,"  she  said.  "You  read  that 
to  me  once,  but  I  didn't  dream  that  my  own  happi 
ness  would  some  day  consist  of  recollection." 

"Why  should  it,  Gloria?  Hope  is  ready  to  wel 
come  you.  Your  home  stands  open;  my  arms  are 
outstretched." 

"No!"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  shake  of  her  dark 
head.  "There  is  some  one  besides  myself  to  con 
sider.  Natalie  is  happy  here;  no  one  seems  to  know 
or  to  care  what  I  have  done." 

179 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"But  surely  you  are  not  satisfied  with  this." 
He  ran  his  eye  critically  over  the  garish  newness  of 
the  little  hotel  parlor.  It  was  flimsy,  cheap,  fresh 
with  paint,  very  different  from  the  surroundings  he 
had  given  her  at  Hope.  ' '  I  wonder  that  he  presumed 
to  offer  you  this  after  what  you  have  had.  A  hotel- 
keeper  !  A  landlady !' ' 

"I  was  glad  to  get  even  this,  for  I  have  no  pride 
now,"  she  returned,  coldly.  "At  least  the  house  is 
honest,  and  the  men  who  come  here  are  the  same. 
Mr.  O'Neil  is  especially  kind  to  Natalie,  and  she 
thinks  a  great  deal  of  him." 

"I  presume  he  wants  to  marry  her." 

"I  pray  that  he  will.  I  don't  intend  her  to  make 
the  mistake  I  did." 

Gordon  received  this  announcement  with  grim 
satisfaction.  It  was  what  he  had  suspected,  and  it 
fitted  perfectly  into  his  plans. 

"I  sha'n't  allow  this  to  continue,  Gloria,"  he  said. 
"Our  difference  has  gone  far  enough,  and  I  sha'n't 
permit  O'Neil  to  put  me  in  his  debt.  We  have  come 
to  a  final  understanding,  he  and  I.  While  my  views 
on  the  holiness  of  the  marriage  relation  have  not 
changed  in  the  least,  still  I  am  ready  to  follow  your 
wishes." 

"You — mean  it?"  she  queried,  breathlessly. 

"I  do.     Come  home,  Gloria." 

' '  Wait !  I  must  tell  Natalie. ' '  She  rose  unsteadily 
and  left  the  room,  while  he  reflected  with  mingled 
scorn  and  amusement  upon  the  weakness  of  human 
nature  and  the  gullibility  of  women. 

A  moment  later  mother  and  daughter  appeared, 
arm  in  arm,  both  very  pale. 

"Is  this  true?"  Natalie  demanded. 
180 


HOW    GORDON    FAILED 

"Quite  true.  You  and  Gloria  seem  to  think  I 
owe  something;  I  never  shirk  a  debt."  Mrs.  Ger 
ard's  fingers  tightened  painfully  upon  her  daughter's 
arm  as  he  continued:  "There  is  only  one  condi 
tion  upon  which  I  insist:  you  must  both  return  to 
Hope  at  once  and  have  done  with  this — this  man." 

Natalie  hesitated,  but  the  look  in  her  mother's 
eyes  decided  her.  With  some  difficulty  she  forced 
herself  to  acquiesce,  and  felt  the  grip  upon  her  arm 
suddenly  relax.  ' '  When  will  the  wedding  take  place  ? ' ' 
she  asked. 

"At  the  earliest  possible  moment,"  Gordon  de 
clared,  with  well-feigned  seriousness.  "Once  we 
return  to  God's  country — " 

"No!"  cried  Natalie.  "We  can't  go  back  to 
Hope  until  she  is  married;  it  would  be  scandalous." 

"Why  more  scandalous  to  accept  my  protection 
than  that  of  a  stranger?  Do  you  care  what  these 
people  think?"  he  demanded,  with  an  air  of  fine 
scorn. 

' '  Yes !     I  care  very  much. ' ' 

"Is  there  any — reason  for  waiting?"  Mrs.  Gerard 
inquired. 

1 '  Many !  Too  many  to  enumerate.  It  is  my  con 
dition  that  you  both  leave  Omar  at  once." 

Gloria  Gerard  looked  at  her  daughter  in  troubled 
indecision,  but  Natalie  answered  firmly: 

"We  can't  do  that." 

"So!  You  have  your  own  plans,  no  doubt,  and  it 
doesn't  trouble  you  that  you  are  standing  in  the  way 
of  your  mother's  respectability!"  His  voice  was 
harsh,  his  sneer  open.  "Bless  my  soul!  Is  the 
generosity  to  be  all  on  my  side?  Or  has  this  man 
O'Neil  forbidden  you  to  associate  with  me?" 

iSi 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"I  don't  trust  you."  Natalie  flared  up.  'Tm 
afraid  you  are  trying — " 

"It  is  my  condition,  and  I  am  adamant.  Believe 
me,  O'Neil  knows  of  your  disgrace,  or  will  learn  of 
it  in  time.  It  would  be  well  to  protect  your  name 
while  you  can."  Turning  to  the  other  woman,  he 
said  loudly:  "Gloria,  the  girl  is  ready  to  sacrifice 
you  to  her  own  ends." 

"Wait!"  Natalie's  nerves  were  tingling  with  dis 
like  of  the  man,  but  she  said  steadily:  "I  shall  do 
exactly  as  mother  wishes." 

Be  it  said  to  the  credit  of  Gloria  Gerard  that  she 
did  not  hesitate. 

"I  shall  be  here  when  you  are  ready,"  she  told 
him. 

With  an  exclamation  of  rage  Gordon  rose  and 
strode  out  of  the  room. 


XIII 

WE  JOURNEY   TO   A   PLACE    OF   MANY   WONDERS 

/CURTIS  GORDON'S  men  broke  camp  upon  his 
^->  return  from  Omar,  and  by  taking  the  east  bank 
of  the  Salmon  River  pressed  through  to  the  upper 
valley.  Here  they  recrossed  to  the  west  side  and 
completed  their  survey,  with  the  exception  of  the 
three-mile  gap  which  Dan  Appleton  held. 

Gordon  continued  to  smart  under  the  sting  of 
his  defeat,  however.  O'Neil  had  gotten  the  better 
of  him  in  argument,  and  Natalie's  simplicity  had 
proved  more  than  a  match  for  his  powers  of  per 
suasion.  At  no  time  had  he  seriously  considered 
making  Mrs.  Gerard  his  wife,  but  he  had  thought  to 
entice  the  two  women  back  under  his  own  roof,  in 
order  to  humble  both  them  and  their  self-appointed 
protector.  He  felt  sure  that  Natalie's  return  to 
Hope  and  her  residence  there  would  injure  her 
seriously  in  the  eyes  of  the  community,  and  this 
would  be  a  stab  to  O'Neil.  Although  he  had  failed 
for  the  moment,  he  did  not  abandon  the  idea.  His 
display  of  anger  upon  leaving  the  hotel  had  been 
due  mainly  to  disappointment  at  the  checkmate. 
But  knowing  well  the  hold  he  possessed  upon  the 
older  woman,  he  laid  it  away  for  later  use  when 
the  fight  grew  hot,  and  meanwhile  devoted  himself 
to  devising  further  measures  by  which  to  harass 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

his  enemy  and  incidentally  advance  his  own  for 
tunes. 

Gordon's  business  career  had  consisted  of  a  series 
of  brilliant  manipulations  whereby,  with  little  to 
go  upon,  he  had  forced  financial  recognition  for 
himself.  No  one  knew  better  than  he  the  unstable 
foundation  beneath  his  Alaskan  enterprises;  yet 
more  than  once  he  had  turned  as  desperate  ventures 
into  the  semblance  of  success.  By  his  present  opera 
tions  he  sought  not  only  to  hamper  O'Neil,  but  to 
create  an  appearance  of  opposition  to  both  him  and 
the  Trust  that  could  be  coined  into  dollars  and  cents. 
There  are  in  the  commercial  world  money  wolves 
who  prey  upon  the  weak  and  depend  upon  the 
spirit  of  compromise  in  their  adversaries.  Gordon 
was  one  of  these.  He  had  the  faculty  of  snatching 
at  least  half  a  victory  from  apparent  defeat,  and  for 
this  reason  he  had  been  able  to  show  a  record 
sufficiently  impressive  to  convince  the  average  in 
vestor  of  his  ability. 

By  purchasing  for  a  song  the  McDermott  rights 
at  Kyak  he  had  placed  himself  in  position  to  share 
in  the  benefits  of  the  Heidlemann  breakwater,  and 
by  rapidly  pushing  his  tracks  ahead  he  made  his 
rivalry  seem  formidable.  As  a  means  of  attack  upon 
O'Neil  he  adopted  a  procedure  common  in  railroad- 
building.  He  amended  his  original  survey  so  that 
it  crossed  that  of  the  S.  R.  &  N.  midway  between 
the  lower  bridge  over  the  Salmon  River  and  the 
glaciers,  and  at  that  point  began  the  hasty  erection 
of  a  grade. 

It  was  at  the  cost  of  no  little  inconvenience  that 
he  rushed  forward  a  large  body  of  men  and  supplies, 
and  began  to  lay  track  across  the  S.  R.  &  N.  right  - 

184 


A    PLACE    OF    MANY    WONDERS 

of-way.  If  Appleton  could  hold  a  hillside,  he  rea 
soned,  he  himself  could  hold  a  crossing,  if  not  per 
manently,  at  least  for  a  sufficient  length  of  time  to 
serve  his  purpose. 

His  action  came  as  a  disagreeable  surprise  to  Omar. 
These  battles  for  crossings  have  been  common  in 
the  history  of  railroading,  and  they  have  not  infre 
quently  resulted  in  sanguinary  affrays.  Long  after 
the  ties  are  spiked  and  the  heads  are  healed,  the 
legal  rights  involved  have  been  determined,  but 
usually  amid  such  a  tangle  of  conflicting  testimony 
and  such  a  confusion  of  technicalities  as  to  leave 
the  justice  of  the  final  decision  in  doubt.  In  the 
unsettled  conditions  that  prevailed  in  the  Salmon 
River  valley  physical  possession  of  a  right-of-way 
was  at  least  nine-tenths  of  the  law,  and  O'Neil 
realized  that  he  must  choose  between  violence  and 
a  compromise.  Not  being  given  to  compromise,  he 
continued  his  construction  work,  and  drew  closer, 
day  by  day,  to  the  point  of  contact. 

Reports  came  from  the  front  of  his  opponent's 
preparations  for  resistance.  Gordon  had  laid  several 
hundred  yards  of  light  rails  upon  his  grade,  and  on 
these  he  had  mounted  a  device  in  the  nature  of  a 
"go-devil"  or  skip,  which  he  shunted  back  and  forth 
by  means  of  a  donkey-engine  and  steel  cable.  With 
this  in  operation  across  the  point  of  intersection  like 
a  shuttle,  interference  would  be  extremely  dangerous. 
In  addition,  he  had  built  blockhouses  and  breast 
works  of  ties,  and  in  these,  it  was  reported,  he  had 
stationed  the  pick  of  his  hired  helpers,  armed  and 
well  provisioned. 

Toward  this  stronghold  Murray  O' Neil's  men 
worked,  laying  his  road-bed  as  straight  as  an  arrow, 
13  l85 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

and  as  the  intervening  distance  decreased  anxiety 
and  speculation  at  Omar  increased. 

Among  those  who  hung  upon  the  rumors  of  the 
approaching  clash  with  greatest  interest  was  Eliza 
Appleton.  Since  Dan's  departure  for  the  front  she 
had  done  her  modest  best  to  act  the  part  he  had 
forced  upon  her,  and  in  furtherance  of  their  con 
spiracy  she  had  urged  O'Neil  to  fulfil  his  promise  of 
taking  her  over  the  work.  She  felt  an  ever-growing 
curiosity  to  see  those  glaciers,  about  which  she  had 
heard  so  much ;  and  she  reflected,  though  not  without 
a  degree  of  self -contempt,  that  nothing  could  be 
more  favorable  to  her  design  than  the  intimacy  of 
several  days  together  on  the  trail.  Nothing  breeds 
a  closer  relationship  than  the  open  life,  nothing  brings 
people  more  quickly  into  accord  or  hopeless  disagree 
ment.  Although  she  had  no  faintest  idea  that 
Murray  could  or  would  ever  care  seriously  for  her, 
she  felt  that  there  was  a  bare  possibility  of  winning 
his  transient  interest  and  in  that  way,  perhaps, 
affording  her  brother  time  in  which  to  attain  his 
heart's  desire.  Of  course,  it  was  all  utterly  absurd, 
yet  it  was  serious  enough  to  Dan ;  and  her  own  feel 
ings — well,  they  didn't  matter. 

She  was  greatly  excited  when  O'Neil  announced 
one  evening : 

"I'm  ready  to  make  that  trip  to  the  front,  if  you 
are.  I  have  business  at  Kyak;  so  after  we've  seen 
the  glaciers  we  will  go  down  there  and  you  can  take 
in  the  coal-fields." 

"How  long  shall  we  be  gone?" 

' ' Ten  days,  perhaps.     We'll  start  in  the  morning." 

"I'm  ready  to  leave  at  a  moment's  notice." 

"Then  perhaps  you'd  better  help  Natalie." 

186 


A    PLACE    OF    MANY   WONDERS 

"Natalie!"  exclaimed  Eliza,  seeing  all  her  well- 
laid  plans  tottering.  "Is  she  going?" 

"Oh  yes!  It's  an  opportunity  she  shouldn't  miss, 
and  I  thought  it  would  be  pleasanter  for  you  if  she 
went  with  us." 

Eliza  was  forced  to  acknowledge  his  thoughtful- 
ness,  although  it  angered  her  to  be  sacrificed  to  the 
proprieties.  Her  newspaper  training  had  made  her 
feel  superior  to  such  things,  and  this  of  all  occasions 
was  one  upon  which  she  would  have  liked  to  be  free 
of  mere  conventions.  But  of  course  she  professed 
the  greatest  delight. 

O'Neil  had  puzzled  her  greatly  of  late;  for  at  times 
he  seemed  wrapped  up  in  Natalie,  and  at  other  times 
he  actually  showed  a  preference  for  Eliza's  own 
company.  He  was  so  impartial  in  his  attentions 
that  at  one  moment  the  girl  would  waver  in  her 
determination  and  in  the  next  would  believe  herself 
succeeding  beyond  her  hope.  The  game  confused 
her  emotions  curiously.  She  accused  herself  of  being 
overbold,  and  then  she  noted  with  horror  that  she 
was  growing  as  sensitive  to  his  apparent  coldness  as 
if  she  were  really  in  earnest.  She  had  not  supposed 
that  the  mere  acting  of  a  sentimental  r61e  could  so 
obsess  her. 

To  counteract  this  tendency  she  assumed  a  very 
professional  air  when  they  set  out  on  the  following 
morning.  She  was  once  more  Eliza  Appleton  the 
reporter,  and  O'Neil,  in  recognition  of  this  fact, 
explained  rapidly  the  difficulties  of  construction 
which  he  had  met  and  overcome.  As  she  began  to 
understand  there  came  to  her  a  fuller  appreciation, 
of  the  man  and  the  work  he  was  doing.  Natalie, 
however,  could  not  seem  to  grasp  the  significance  of 

187. 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

the  enterprise.  She  saw  nothing  beyond  the  even 
graved  road-bed,  the  uninteresting  trestles  and  bridges 
and  cuts  and  fills,  the  like  of  which  she  had  seen 
many  times  before,  and  her  comment  was  childlike. 
O'Neil,  however,  appeared  to  find  her  naivete  charm 
ing,  and  Eliza  reflected  bitterly: 

"If  my  nose  was  perfectly  chiseled  and  my  eye 
brows  nice,  he  wouldn't  care  if  my  brain  was  the 
size  of  a  rabbit's.  Here  am  I,  talking  like  a  human 
being  and  really  understanding  him,  while  she  sits 
like  a  Greek  goddess,  wondering  if  her  hat  is  on 
straight.  If  ever  I  find  a  girl  uglier  than  I  am  I'll 
make  her  my  bosom  friend."  She  jabbed  her  pencil 
viciously  at  her  notebook. 

The  track  by  this  time  had  been  extended  con 
siderably  beyond  the  lower  crossing — a  circumstance 
which  rendered  their  boat  journey  to  the  glaciers 
considerably  shorter  than  the  one  Dan  had  taken 
with  his  cargo  of  dynamite.  When  the  engine  finally 
stopped  it  was  in  the  midst  of  a  tent  village  beside 
which  flowed  one  of  the  smaller  branches  of  the 
Salmon.  In  the  distance  the  grade  stretched  out 
across  the  level  swamps  like  a  thin,  lately  healed 
scar,  and  along  its  crest  gravel-trains  were  slowly 
creeping.  An  army  of  men  like  a  row  of  ants  were 
toiling  upon  it,  and  still  farther  away  shone  the 
white  sides  of  another  encampment. 

' '  Oh !  That's  Gordon's  track, ' '  Eliza  cried,  quickly. 
"Why,  you're  nearly  up  to  him.  How  do  you  in 
tend  to  get  across?" 

O'Neil  nodded  at  the  long  thin  line  of  moiling 
raen  in  the  distance. 

"There's  a  loose  handle  in  each  one  of  those 

picks,"  he  said. 

188 


A    PLACE    OF    MANY    WONDERS 

"Somebody  will  be  killed  in  that  kind  of  a  racket.'* 

"That  rests  with  Gordon.     I'm  going  through." 

' '  Suppose  he  had  said  that  when  Dan  stopped  him 
at  the  canon?" 

"If  he'd  said  it  and  meant  it  he'd  probably  have 
done  it.  He  bluffs;  I  don't!  I  have  to  go  on; 
he  didn't.  Now  lunch  is  served;  and  since  this  is 
our  last  glimpse  of  civilization,  I  advise  you  to  fortify 
yourselves.  From  here  on  we  shall  see  nothing  but 
the  wilderness." 

He  led  them  to  a  spotless  tent  which  had  been 
newly  erected  at  the  edge  of  the  spruce.  It  wras 
smoothly  stretched  upon  a  framework  of  timber,  its 
walls  and  floor  were  of  dressed  lumber,  and  within 
were  two  cots  all  in  clean  linen.  There  were  twin 
washstands  also,  and  dressers  and  rocking-chairs,  a 
table  and  a  stove.  On  the  floor  beside  the  beds  lay 
a  number  of  deep,  soft  bear  -  rugs.  A  meal  was 
spread  amid  glass  and  figured  china  and  fresh  new 
napery. 

' '  How  cozy !  Why,  it's  a  perfect  dear  of  a  house !" 
exclaimed  Natalie. 

"You  will  leave  everything  but  your  necessaries 
here,  for  we  are  going  light,"  Murray  told  them. 
' '  You  will  stop  here  on  our  way  back  to  Kyak,  and 
I'll  warrant  you'll  be  glad  to  see  the  place  by  that 
time." 

"You  built  this  just  for  us,"  Eliza  said,  accusingly. 

"Yes.  But  it  didn't  take  long.  I  'phoned  this 
morning  that  you  were  coming."  He  ran  a  critical 
eye  over  the  place  to  see  that  its  equipment  was 
complete,  then  drew  out  their  chairs  for  them, 

A  white-coated  cook-boy  served  a  luncheon  in 
courses,  the  quality  of  which  astonished  the  visitors, 

189 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

for  there  was  soup,  a  roast,  delicious  vegetables, 
crisp  salad,  a  camembert  which  O'Neil  had  im 
ported  for  his  private  use,  and  his  own  particular 
blend  of  coffee. 

The  girls  ate  with  appetites  that  rivaled  those  of 
the  men  in  the  mess-tent  near  by.  Their  presence  in 
the  heart  of  a  great  activity,  the  anticipation  of  ad 
venture  to  come,  the  electric  atmosphere  of  haste  and 
straining  effort  on  every  hand  excited  them.  Eliza 
began  to  be  less  conscious  of  her  secret  intention,  and 
Natalie  showed  a  gaiety  rare  in  her  since  the  shadow 
of  her  mother's  shame  had  fallen  upon  her  life. 

The  boat  crews  were  waiting  when  they  had 
finished,  and  they  were  soon  under  way.  A  mile  of 
comparatively  slack  water  brought  them  out  into 
one  of  the  larger  estuaries  of  the  river,  and  there  the 
long,  uphill  pull  began.  O'Neil  had  equipped 
his  two  companions  with  high  rubber  boots,  which 
they  were  only  too  eager  to  try.  As  soon  as  they  got 
ashore  they  began  to  romp  and  play  and  splash 
through  the  shallows  quite  like  unruly  children. 
They  spattered  him  mischievously,  they  tugged  at  the 
towing-ropes  with  a  great  show  of  assistance,  they 
scampered  ahead  of  the  party,  keeping  him  in  a  con 
stant  panic  lest  they  meet  with  serious  accident. 

It  was  with  no  little  relief  that  he  gave  the  order  to 
pitch  camp  some  hours  later.  After  sending  them 
off  to  pick  wild  currants,  with  a  grave  warning  to 
beware  of  bears,  he  saw  to  the  preparations  for  the 
night.  They  returned  shortly  with  their  hats  filled 
and  their  lips  stained;  then,  much  to  his  disgust,  they 
insisted  upon  straightening  out  his  tent  with  their 
own  hands.  Once  inside  its  low  shelter,  they  glee 
fully  sifted  sand  between  his  blankets  and  replaced 

190 


A    PLACE   OF    MANY   WONDERS 

his  pillow  with  a  rock;  then  they  induced  the  cook 
to  coil  a  wet  string  in  his  flapjack.  When  supper 
was  over  and  the  camp  -  fires  of  driftwood  were 
crackling  merrily,  they  fixed  themselves  comfort 
ably  where  their  feet  would  toast,  and  made  him 
tell  them  stories  until  his  eyes  drooped  with  weari 
ness. 

It  was  late  summer,  and  O'Neil  had  expected  to  find 
the  glaciers  less  active  than  usual,  but  heavy  rains 
in  the  interior  and  hot  thawing  weather  along  the 
coast  had  swelled  the  Salmon  until  many  bergs 
clogged  it,  while  the  reverberations  which  rolled  down 
the  valley  told  him  that  both  Garfield  and  Jackson 
were  caving  badly.  It  was  not  the  safest  time 
at  which  to  approach  the  place,  he  reflected,  but  the 
girls  had  shown  themselves  nimble  of  foot,  and  he 
put  aside  his  uneasiness. 

Short  though  the  miles  had  been  and  easy  as  the 
trip  had  proved,  Eliza  soon  found  herself  wondering 
that  it  should  be  possible  to  penetrate  this  region  at 
all.  The  snarling  river,  the  charging  icebergs,  the 
caving  banks,  and  the  growing  menace  of  that  noisy 
gap  ahead  began  to  have  their  effect  upon  her  and 
Natalie;  and  when  the  party  finally  rounded  the 
point  where  Murray  and  Dan  had  caught  their  first 
glimpse  of  the  lower  glacier  they  paused  with  excla 
mations  of  amazement.  They  stood  at  the  upper  end 
of  a  gorge  between  low  bluffs,  and  just  across  the 
hurrying  flood  lay  the  lower  limit  of  the  giant  ice 
field.  The  edge,  perhaps  six  hundred  feet  distant, 
was  sloping  and  mud-stained,  for  in  its  slow  advance 
it  had  plowed  a  huge  furrow,  lifting  boulders,  trees, 
acres  of  soil  upon  its  back.  The  very  bluff  through 
which  the  river  had  cut  its  bed  was  formed  of  the 

191 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

debris  it  had  thrown  off,  and  constituted  a  bulwark 
protecting  its  flank.  Farther  up-stream  the  slope 
became  steeper,  then  changed  to  a  rugged  perpen 
dicular  face  showing  marks  of  recent  cleavage.  This 
palisade  extended  on  and  on,  around  the  nearest 
bend,  following  the  contour  of  the  Salmon  as  far 
as  they  could  see.  The  sun  was  reflected  from  its 
myriad  angles  and  facets  in  splendid  iridescence. 
Mammoth  caves  and  caverns  gaped.  In  spots  the 
ice  was  white,  opaque;  in  other  places  it  was  a 
light  cerulean  blue  which  shaded  into  purple. 
Ribbons  and  faint  striations  meandered  through  it 
like  the  streaks  in  an  agate.  But  what  struck  the 
beholders  with  overwhelming  force  was  the  tremen 
dous,  the  unbelievable  bulk  of  the  whole  slowly 
moving  mass.  It  reared  itself  sheerly  three  hundred 
feet  high,  and  along  its  foot  the  river  hurried,  dwarfed 
to  an  insignificant  trickle.  Here  and  there  it 
leaned  outward  threateningly,  bulging  from  the 
terrific  weight  behind;  at  other  points  the  muddy 
flood  recoiled  from  vast  heaps  which  had  slid  down 
ward  and  half  dammed  its  current.  Back  of  these 
piles  the  fresh  cleavage  showed  dazzlingly.  On, 
upward,  back  into  the  untracked  mountains  it  ran 
through  mile  upon  mile  of  undulations,  until  at  last 
it  joined  the  ice-cap  which  weighted  the  plateau. 
As  far  as  the  eye  could  follow  the  river  ahead  it 
stood  solidly.  Across  its  entire  face  it  was  dripping ; 
a  thousand  little  rills  and  waterfalls  ate  into  it,  and 
over  it  swept  a  cool,  dank  breath. 

The  effect  of  the  first  view  was  overwhelming. 
Nothing  upon  the  earth  compares  in  majesty  and 
menace  to  these  dull-eyed  monsters  of  bygone  ages ; 
nothing  save  the  roots  of  mountains  can  serve  to 

192 


A    PLACE    OF    MANY    WONDERS 

check  them;  nothing  less  than  the  ceaseless  energy 
of  mighty  rivers  can  sweep  away  their  shattered 
fragments. 

Murray  O'Neil  had  seen  Jackson  Glacier  many 
times,  but  always  he  experienced  the  same  feeling  of 
awe,  of  personal  insignificance,  as  when  he  first  came 
stumbling  up  that  gorge  more  than  a  year  before. 

For  a  long  time  the  girls  stood  gazing  without  a 
word.  They  seemed  to  have  forgotten  his  presence. 

"Well?' 'he  said  at  last. 

"Isn't  it  big?"  Natalie  faltered,  with  round  eyes. 
" Will  it  fall  over  on  us?" 

He  shook  his  head.  "The  river  is  too  wide  for 
that,  but  when  a  particularly  big  mass  drops  it  makes 
waves  large  enough  to  sweep  everything  before  them. 
This  bank  on  our  right  is  sixty  feet  high,  but  I've 
seen  it  inundated." 

Turning  to  Eliza,  he  inquired: 

"What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

Her  face  as  she  met  his  was  strangely^glorified, 
her  eyes  were  shining,  her  fingers  tightly  interlocked. 

"I — I'd  like  to  cry  or — or  swear,"  she  said, 
uncertainly. 

"Why,  Eliza!"  Natalie  regarded  her  friend  in 
shocked  amazement,  but  Murray  laughed. 

"It  affects  people  differently,"  he  said.  "I  have 
men  who  refuse  to  make  this  trip.  There's  some 
thing  about  Jackson  that  frightens  them — perhaps 
it  is  its  nearness.  You  see,  there's  no  other  place  on 
the  globe  where  we  pygmies  dare  come  so  close  to  a 
live  glacier  of  this  size." 

"How  can  we  go  on?"  Natalie  asked. 

' '  We  must  work  our  boats  along  this  bank.  If  the 
ice  begins  to  crack  anywhere  near  us  I  want  you  both 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

to  scamper  up  into  the  alders  as  fast  as  your  rubber 
boots  will  carry  you." 

"What  will  you  do?"     Eliza  eyed  him  curiously. 

"Oh,  I'll  follow;  never  fear!  If  it's  not  too  bad, 
I'll  stay  with  the  boats,  of  course.  But  we're  not 
likely  to  have  much  difficulty  at  this  season." 

Eliza  noted  the  intensity  with  which  the  boatmen 
were  scanning  the  passage  ahead,  and  something  in 
O'Neil's  tone  told  her  he  was  speaking  with  an  assur 
ance  he  did  not  wholly  feel. 

"You  have  lost  some  men  here,  haven't  you?" 
she  asked. 

' '  Yes.  But  the  greater  danger  is  in  coming  down. 
Then  we  have  to  get  out  in  the  current  and  take 
our  chances." 

"I'd  like  to  do  that!"  Her  lips  were  parted,  her 
eyes  were  glowing,  but  Natalie  gave  a  little  cry  of 
dismay. 

"It's  an  utterly  new  sensation,"  O'Neil  admitted. 
"I've  been  thinking  of  sending  you  up  across  the 
moraine,  but  the  trail  is  bad,  and  you  might  get  lost 
among  the  alders — " 

"And  miss  any  part  of  this!  I  wouldn't  do  it 
for  worlds."  Eliza's  enthusiasm  was  irresistible,  and 
the  expedition  was  soon  under  way  again. 

Progress  was  more  difficult  now,  for  the  river-shore 
was  paved  with  smooth,  round  stones  which  rolled 
under  foot,  and  the  boats  required  extreme  attention 
in  the  swift  current.  The  farther  they  proceeded, 
the  more  the  ice  wall  opposite  increased  in  height, 
until  at  last  it  shut  off  the  mountains  behind.  Then 
as  they  rounded  the  first  bend  a  new  prospect  un 
folded  itself.  The  size  of  Jackson  became  even 
more  apparent;  the  gravel  bank  under  which  they 

194 


A    PLACE    OF    MANY   WONDERS 

crept  was  steeper  and  higher  also.  In  places  it  was 
undercut  by  the  action  of  the  waves  which  periodi- 
ically  surged  across.  At  such  points  Murray  sent 
his  charges  hurrying  on  ahead,  while  he  and  his 
men  tracked  the  boats  after  them.  In  time  they 
found  themselves  opposite  the  backbone  of  the 
glacier,  where  the  Salmon  gnawed  at  the  foot  of  a 
frozen  cliff  of  prodigious  height.  And  now,  although 
there  had  been  no  cause  for  apprehension  beyond  an 
occasional  rumble  far  back  or  a  splitting  crack  from 
near  at  hand,  the  men  assumed  an  attitude  of  strained 
watchfulness  and  kept  their  faces  turned  to  the  left. 
They  walked  quietly,  as  if  they  felt  themselves  in 
some  appalling  presence. 

At  last  there  came  a  sound  like  that  of  a  cannon- 
shot,  and  far  ahead  of  them  a  fragment  loosened 
itself  and  went  plunging  downward.  Although  it 
appeared  small,  a  ridge  promptly  leaped  out  from 
beneath  the  splash  and  came  racing  down  the  river's 
bosom  toward  them. 

"Better  go  up  a  bit,"  O'Neil  called  to  his  charges. 

The  men  at  the  ends  of  the  tow-lines  scrambled 
part  way  up  the  shelving  beach  and  braced  them 
selves,  then  wrapped  the  ropes  about  their  waists, 
like  anchormen  on  a  tug-of-war  team.  Their  com 
panions  waded  into  the  flood  and  fended  the  boats 
off  the  rocks. 

The  wave  came  swiftly,  lifting  the  skiffs  high  upon 
the  bank,  then  it  sucked  them  back  amid  a  tangle 
of  arms  and  legs.  A  portion  of  the  river-bottom 
suddenly  bared  itself  and  as  suddenly  was  submerged 
again.  The  boats  plunged  and  rolled  and  beat 
themselves  upon  the  shore,  wrenching  the  anchormen 
from  their  posts.  They  were  half  filled  with  water 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

too,  but  the  wave  had  passed  and  was  scudding 
away  down-stream. 

Eliza  Appleton  came  stumbling  back  over  the 
rock-strewn  bank,  for  during  that  first  mad  plunge 
she  had  seen  O'Neil  go  down  beneath  one  of  the 
rearing  craft.  A  man  was  helping  him  out. 

"Nothing  but  my  ankle!"  he  reassured  her  when 
she  reached  his  side.  ''I  was  dragged  a  bit  and 
jammed  among  the  boulders."  He  sank  down,  and 
his  lips  were  white  with  pain,  but  his  gray  eyes  smiled 
bravely.  The  boatman  removed  his  chief's  boot  and 
fell  to  rubbing  the  injury,  while  the  girls  looked  on 
helplessly. 

' '  Come,  come !  We  can't  stay  here, ' '  Murray  told 
them.  He  drew  on  the  boot  again  to  check  the 
swelling. 

"Can  you  walk?"  they  asked  him,  anxiously. 

1 '  Certainly !  Two  feet  are  really  unnecessary.  A 
man  can  get  along  nearly  as  well  on  one."  He 
hurried  his  men  back  to  their  tasks,  and  managed 
to  limp  after  them,  although  the  effort  brought  beads 
of  sweat  to  his  lips  and  brow. 

It  was  well  that  he  insisted  upon  haste,  for  they 
had  not  gone  far  when  the  glacier  broke  abreast  of 
the  spot  they  had  just  left.  There  came  a  rending 
crack,  terrifying  in  its  loudness ;  a  tremendous  tower 
of  ice  separated  itself  from  the  main  body,  leaned 
slowly  outward,  then  roared  downward,  falling  in  a 
solid  piece  like  a  sky-scraper  undermined.  Not 
until  the  arc  described  by  its  summit  had  reached 
the  river's  surface  did  it  shiver  itself.  Then  there 
was  a  burst  as  of  an  exploded  mine.  The  saffron 
waters  of  the  Salmon  shot  upward  until  they  topped 
the  main  rampart,  and  there  separated  into  a  cloud  of 

196 


A    PLACE    OF    MANY    WONDERS 

spray  which  rained  down  in  a  deluge.  Out  from  the 
fallen  mass  rushed  a  billow  which  gushed  across  the 
channel,  thrashed  against  the  high  bank,  then  inun 
dated  it  until  the  alder  thickets  on  its  crest  whipped 
their  tips  madly.  A  giant  charge  of  fragments  of 
every  size  flew  far  out  across  the  flats  or  lashed  the 
waters  to  further  anger  in  its  fall. 

The  prostrate  column  lay  like  a  wing-dam,  half 
across  the  stream,  and  over  it  the  Salmon  piled 
itself.  Disintegration  followed;  bergs  heaved  them 
selves  into  sight  and  went  rolling  and  lunging  after 
the  billow  which  was  rushing  down-stream  with  the 
speed  of  a  locomotive.  They  ground  and  clashed 
together  in  furious  confusion  as  the  river  spun  them ; 
the  greater  ones  up-ended  themselves,  casting  off 
muddy  cascades.  From  the  depths  of  the  flood  came 
a  grinding  and  crunching  as  ice  met  rock. 

Spellbound,  the  girls  watched  that  first  wave  go 
tearing  out  of  sight,  filling  the  river  bank-full.  With 
exclamations  of  wonder,  they  saw  the  imprisoned 
waters  break  the  huge  dam  to  pieces.  Finally  the 
last  shattered  fragment  was  hurried  out  of  sight, 
the  flood  poured  past  unhampered,  and  overhead 
the  glacier  towered  silent,  unchanged,  staring  at 
them  balefully  like  a  blind  man  with  filmed  eyes. 
There  remained  nothing  but  a  gleaming  scar  to  show 
where  the  cataclysm  had  originated. 

"If  I'd  known  the  river  was  so  high  I'd  never  have 
brought  you,"  O'Neil  told  them.  "It's  fortunate 
we  happened  to  be  above  that  break.  You  see,  the 
waves  can't  run  up  against  the  current."  He  turned 
to  his  men  and  spurred  them  on. 

It  was  not  until  the  travelers  had  reached  the 
camp  at  the  bridge  site  that  all  the  wonders  of  this 

197 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

region  became  apparent.  Then  the  two  girls,  in 
spite  of  their  fatigue,  spent  the  late  afternoon  sight 
seeing.  At  this  point  they  were  able  to  gain  a 
comprehensive  view;  for  at  their  backs  lay  Jackson 
Glacier,  which  they  had  just  passed,  and  directly 
fronting  them,  across  a  placid  lake,  was  Garfield,  even 
larger  and  more  impressive  than  its  mate.  Thirty, 
forty  miles  it  ran  back,  broadening  into  a  frozen  sea 
out  of  which  scarred  mountain  peaks  rose  like  bleak 
islands,  and  on  beyond  the  range  of  vision  was  still 
more  ice. 

They  were  surrounded  by  ragged  ramparts.  The 
Salmon  River  ran  through  a  broken  chalice  formed 
by  the  encircling  hills,  and  over  the  rim  of  the  bowl 
or  through  its  cracks  peered  other  and  smaller  ice 
bodies.  The  lake  at  its  bottom  was  rilled  by  as 
strange  a  navy  as  ever  sailed  the  sea;  for  the  ships 
were  bergs,  and  they  followed  each  other  in  senseless, 
ceaseless  manceuvers,  towed  by  the  currents  which 
swept  through  from  the  cataract  at  its  upper  end. 
They  formed  long  battle-lines,  they  assembled  into 
flotillas,  they  filed  about  the  circumference  of  a 
devil's  whirlpool  at  the  foot  of  the  rapids,  gyrating, 
bobbing,  bowing  until  crowded  out  by  the  pressure 
of  their  rivals.  Some  of  them  were  grounded,  like 
hulks  defeated  in  previous  encounters,  and  along  the 
guardian  bar  which  imprisoned  them  at  the  outlet 
of  the  lake  others  were  huddled,  a  mass  of  slowly 
dissolving  wreckage. 

O'Neil  was  helped  into  camp,  and  when  his  boot 
had  been  cut  away  he  sent  news  of  his  arrival  to 
Dan,  who  came  like  an  eager  bridegroom. 


XIV 

HOW   THE   TRUTH   CAME   TO   ELIZA 

A  PPLETON  found  his  employer  with  one  foot  in 
•**•  a  tub  of  hot  water  and  his  lap  full  of  blue 
prints.  O'Neil  explained  briefly  the  condition  of 
affairs  down  the  river. 

"I  want  some  one  to  make  that  crossing,"  he  said. 

"A  volunteer?"  asked  Dan,  with  quickened  pulses. 

"Yes." 

"Will  I  do?" 

"I  sent  for  you  to  give  you  the  first  chance — 
you've  been  chafing  so  at  your  idleness.  We  must 
have  steel  laid  to  this  point  before  snow  flies.  Every 
hour  counts.  I  daren't  risk  Mellen  or  McKay,  for 
they  might  be  disabled.  I  intended  to  take  charge 
myself,  but  I  won't  be  able  to  walk  now  for  some 
time."  He  swore  a  little,  and  Dan  nodded  sym 
pathetically.  "I  wouldn't  send  anybody  where  I'd 
refuse  to  go  myself.  You  understand?" 

"Of  course." 

"If  either  McKay  or  Mellen  were  hurt  I  couldn't 
build  the  bridge,  and  the  bridge  must  be  built." 

"If  Gordon  stands  pat  somebody  may  be — hurt." 

"I  don't  look  for  anything  worse  than  a  few  broken 
heads,  but  of  course  I  can't  tell.  I'll  stand  behind 
you  with  my  last  dollar,  no  matter  what  happens." 

Dan  laughed.  "As  I  understand  the  situation 

199 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

you  won't  have  a  dollar  unless  we  make  the  cross- 
ing." 

''Right !"  O'Neil  smiled  cheerfully.  "The  life  of 
the  S.  R.  &  N.  depends  upon  it.  I'd  give  ten  thou 
sand  dollars  for  your  right  ankle." 

' '  You  can  have  it  for  nothing,  Chief.  I'd  amputate 
the  whole  leg  and  present  it  to  you,"  Dan  declared, 
earnestly. 

Murray  took  his  hand  in  a  hearty  grip.  "Perhaps 
I'll  be  able  to  serve  you  some  time,"  he  said,  simply. 
"Anyhow,  I'll  look  out  for  the  chance.  Now  spend 
the  evening  with  the  girls,  and  leave  in  the  morning. 
I'll  be  down  as  soon  as  I  can  travel,  to  watch  the 
fight  from  the  side-lines."  O' Neil's  voice  was  level, 
but  his  teeth  were  shut  and  his  fingers  were  clenched 
with  rage  at  his  disability. 

Dan  hurried  away  highly  elated,  but  when  he  told 
Eliza  of  the  part  he  had  undertaken  she  stormed 
indignantly. 

"Why,  the  brute!  He  has  no  right  to  send  you 
into  danger.  This  isn't  war." 

"Sis,  dear,  it's  my  chance.  He  can't  stand,  and 
he  daren't  risk  his  right-hand  men." 

"So  he  sacrifices  you!  I  won't  permit  it.  Your 
life  and  safety  are  worth  more  than  all  his  dollars. 
Let  his  old  railroad  go  to  smash!" 

"Wait!  More  than  my  safety  depends  on  this. 
He  said  he'd  wait  for  a  chance  to  pay  me  back.  If 
I  do  this  he'll  owe  me  more  than  any  man  on  the 
job,  and  when  he  learns  that  I  love  Natalie — " 

"Dan!"  exclaimed  his  sister. 

"Oh,  he'll  make  good!" 

"Why,  you're  worse  than  he!  The  idea  of  sug 
gesting  such  a  thing!" 

200 


HOW    THE    TRUTH    CAME 

"Don't  preach!  I've  had  nothing  to  do  lately 
but  think  of  her;  she's  always  in  my  mind.  The 
loneliness  up  here  has  made  me  feel  more  than  ever 
that  I  can't  exist  without  her.  The  river  whispers 
her  name;  her  face  looks  at  me  from  the  camp- 
fire;  the  wind  brings  me  her  messages — 

"Fiddlesticks!  She  saves  her  messages  for  him. 
When  a  man  reaches  the  poetical  stage  he's  posi 
tively  sickening.  You'll  be  writing  verses  next." 

"I've  written  'em,"  Dan  confessed,  sheepishly; 
"oceans  of  mush." 

"Fancy!     Thank  Heaven  one  of  us  is  sane." 

"Our  dispositions  were  mixed  when  we  were  born, 
Eliza.  You're  unsentimental  and  hard-headed :  I'm 
romantic.  You'll  never  know  what  love  means." 

"If  you  are  a  sample,  I  hope  not."  Eliza's  nose 
assumed  an  even  higher  tilt  than  usual. 

"Well,  if  I  knew  I  had  no  chance  with  Natalie 
I'd  let  Gordon's  men  put  an  end  to  me — that's  how 
serious  it  is.  But  I  have  a  chance — I  know  I  have." 

"Bosh!  You've  lived  in  railroad  camps  too  long. 
I  know  a  dozen  girls  prettier  than  she."  Eying  him 
with  more  concern,  she  asked,  seriously,  "You 
wouldn't  really  take  advantage  of  a  service  to  Murray 
O'Neil  to — to  tell  him  the  nature  of  your  insanity?" 

"I  might  not  actually  tell  him,  but  I'd  manage  it 
so  he'd  find  out." 

"Don't  you  think  Natalie  has  something  to  say? 
Don't  you  think  she  is  more  than  a  piece  of  baggage 
waiting  to  be  claimed  by  the  first  man  who  comes 
along?"  sputtered  Miss  Appleton  in  fine  disgust  at 
this  attitude.  "She  has  more  sense  and  determina 
tion  than  any  girl,  any  pretty  girl,  I  ever  saw. 
That's  one  reason  why  I  hate  her  so.  There's  no 
14  201 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

use  trying  to  select  a  husband  for  her.  When  the 
time  comes  she'll  do  the  selecting  herself.  She'll 
knock  over  all  our  plans  and  walk  blushingly  up  to 
the  altar  with  O'Neil,  leaving  us  out  on  the  sidewalk 
to  cheer.  I'm  sorry  I  ever  tried  to  help  you!  I'm 
going  to  quit  and  get  back  my  self-respect." 

"You'll  do  no  such  thing.  You'll  continue  to 
help  your  poor  red-headed  brother  to  the  finish. 
Say!  When  I'm  alone  I'm  just  bursting  with  op 
timism;  when  I'm  with  you  I  wither  with  despair; 
when  I'm  with  Natalie  I  become  as  heavy  and 
stupid  as  a  frog  full  of  buckshot — I  just  sit  and 
blink  and  bask  and  revel  in  a  sort  of  speechless 
bliss.  If  she  ever  saw  how  really  bright  and  en 
gaging  I  am— 

"You!"  Eliza  sniffed.  "You're  as  uninteresting 
as  I  am." 

'  *  Now  that  you've  pledged  your  undying  support, 
here  goes  for  some  basking,"  said  Dan;  and  he  made 
off  hastily  in  search  of  Miss  Gerard. 

Eliza  had  really  made  up  her  mind  to  wash  her 
hands  of  the  affair,  but  she  wavered,  and,  as  usual, 
she  gave  in.  She  did  go  to  O'Neil  to  protest  at  Dan's 
selection  for  the  post  of  danger,  but  after  talking 
with  him  she  began  to  see  the  matter  in  a  new  light, 
and  her  opposition  weakened.  He  showed  her  that 
the  S.  R.  &  N.  had  an  individuality  of  its  own — 
an  individuality  greater  than  Murray  O'Neil's,  or 
Dan  Appleton's,  or  that  of  any  man  connected  with 
it.  She  began  to  understand  that  it  was  a  living 
thing,  and  that  O'Neil  was  merely  a  small  part  of 
it — a  person  driven  by  a  power  outside  himself, 
the  head  servant  of  a  great  undertaking,  upon  whom 
rested  a  heavy  responsibility.  She  saw  for  the  first 

202 


HOW   THE    TRUTH    CAME 

time  that  the  millions  invested  in  the  project  im 
posed  upon  those  concerned  with  its  management  a 
sacred  duty,  and  that  failure  to  defend  the  com 
pany's  rights  would  be  the  worst  sort  of  treachery. 
She  began  to  appreciate  also  how  men  may  be  willing 
to  lay  down  their  lives,  if  necessary,  to  pave  the  way 
for  the  march  of  commerce. 

"I  never  looked  at  it  in  this  way,"  she  told  him, 
when  he  had  finished.  "I — don't  like  to  take  that 
view  of  it,  even  now,  but  I  suppose  I  must." 

"Try  not  to  worry  about  Dan,"  he  said,  sympa 
thetically.  "We'll  start  back  as  soon  as  I'm  able 
to  move  around,  and  I'll  do  my  best  to  see  that  he 
isn't  hurt.  It's — tough  to  be  laid  up  this  way." 

"There's  another  sick  man  in  camp,  by  the  way." 

"Who?" 

"The  Indian  boy  who  helps  the  cook.  He  was 
hunting  and  shot  himself  in  the  arm." 

"They  told  me  he  was  doing  well." 

"Oh,  he  is,  but  the  pain  has  kept  the  poor  fellow 
awake  until  he's  nearly  out  of  his  head.  There  are 
no  drugs  here." 

"None  this  side  of  the  end  of  the  track." 

"Can't  we  do  something?" 

"We  can  give  Dan  a  note  to  'Happy  Tom'  in  the 
morning  and  have  whatever  you  want  sent  up. 
Tom  will  be  there,  and  perhaps  if  you  ask  him  he'll 
despatch  a  man  on  foot  at  once." 

Seizing  pen  and  paper  from  the  table,  Eliza  wrote 
a  note,  which  she  read  aloud: 

"  DEAR  UNCLE  TOM, — There  is  a  sick  Indian  here.  Won't 
you  please  send  up  an  opiate  by  special  messenger,  and  receive 
the  blessing  of,  Your  affectionate,  ELIZA." 

203 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"Better  change  the  word  'opiate,'"  O'Neil  ad 
vised.  "I  don't  thirik  Tom  is  equal  to  that;  he 
might  send  "overalls!"  So  Eliza  substituted  "  some 
thing  to  put  him  to  sleep. ' '  This  message  Dan  prom 
ised  faithfully  to  deliver. 

Murray  had  expected  to  begin  the  return  journey 
within  twenty-four  hours  after  his  arrival;  but  his 
injury  mended  slowly,  and  when  the  time  came  he 
was  still  unable  to  stand.  This  interval  the  girls 
spent  in  watching  the  glaciers,  of  which  they  never 
seemed  to  tire,  and  in  spoiling  many  films. 

It  was  late  on  the  second  day  when  a  tired  and 
sodden  messenger  bearing  the  marks  of  heavy  travel 
appeared  at  O'Neil's  tent  and  inquired  for  Miss 
Appleton.  To  her  he  handed  a  three-foot  bundle 
and  a  note  from  Tom  Slater  which  read : 

DEAR  MADAM, — Here  is  the  best  thing  I  know  of  to  put  an 
Indian  to  sleep.  THOS.  SLATER. 

"There's  some  mistake,  surely,"  said  the  girl,  as 
she  unrolled  the  odd-looking  package;  then  she  cried 
out  angrily,  and  O'Neil  burst  into  laughter.  For 
inside  the  many  wrappings  was  a  pick-handle. 

Eliza's  resentment  at  "Happy  Tom's"  unsympa 
thetic  sense  of  humor  was  tempered  in  a  measure  by 
the  fact  that  the  patient  had  taken  a  turn  for  the 
better  and  really  needed  no  further  medical  attention. 
But  she  was  not  accustomed  to  practical  jokes,  and 
she  vowed  to  make  Tom's  life  miserable  if  ever  the 
occasion  offered. 

As  the  days  wore  on  and  Murray  remained  help 
less  his  impatience  became  acute,  and  on  the  fourth 
morning  he  determined  to  leave,  at  whatever  cost 

204 


HOW   THE    TRUTH    CAME 

in  pain  or  danger  to  the  injury.  He  gave  orders, 
therefore,  to  have  a  boat  prepared,  and  allowed 
himself  to  be  carried  to  it.  The  foreman  of  the 
bridge  crew  he  delegated  to  guide  the  girls  down 
across  the  moraine,  where  he  promised  to  pick  them 
up.  The  men  who  had  come  with  him  he  sent  on  to 
the  cataract  where  Dan  had  been. 

(i Aren't  you  coming  with  us?"  asked  Natalie, 
when  they  found  him  seated  in  the  skiff  with  an 
oarsman. 

"It's  rough  going.  I'd  have  to  be  carried,  so  I 
prefer  this,"  he  told  them. 

"Then  we'll  go  with  you,"  Eliza  promptly  declared. 

Natalie  paled  and  shook  her  dark  head.  "Is  it 
safe?"  she  ventured. 

"  No,  it  isn't !  Run  along  now !  I'll  be  down  there 
waiting,  when  you  arrive." 

"If  it's  safe  enough  for  you,  it's  safe  enough  for 
us,"  said  Eliza.  Climbing  into  the  boat,  she  plumped 
herself  down  with  a  look  which  seemed  to  defy  any 
power  to  remove  her.  Her  blue  eyes  met  O'Neil's 
gray  ones  with  an  expression  he  had  never  seen  in 
them  until  this  moment. 

"Nonsense,  child!"  he  said.     "Don't  be  silly." 

"Don't  you  try  to  put  me  out.  I'll  hang  on  and — 
kick.  Don't  you  say  'please,'  either,"  she  warned 
him. 

"I  must,"  he  protested.     "Please  don't  insist." 

She  scowled  like  an  angry  boy,  and  seized  the 
gunwales  firmly.  Her  expression  made  him  smile 
despite  his*  annoyance,  and  this  provoked  her  the 
more. 

"I'm  going!"  she  asserted,  darkly. 

This  outing  had  done  wonders  for  both  girls.  The 

205 


THE   IRON   TRAIL 

wind  and  the  sunshine  had  tanned  them,  the  coarse 
fare  had  lent  them  a  hearty  vigor,  and  they  made 
charming  pictures  in  their  trim  short  skirts  and 
sweaters  and  leather-banded  hats. 

"Very  well !  If  you're  going,  take  off  your  boots," 
commanded  O'Neil. 

"What  for?" 

"We  may  be  swamped  and  have  to  swim  for  it. 
You  see  the  man  has  taken  his  off."  Murray  pointed 
to  the  raw-boned  Norwegian  oarsman,  who  had 
stripped  down  as  if  for  a  foot-race. 

Eliza  obeyed. 

"Now  your  sweater." 

Natalie  had  watched  this  scene  with  evident  con 
cern.  She  now  seated  herself  upon  a  boulder  and 
began  to  tug  at  her  rubber  boots. 

"Here!  Here!  You're  not  going,  too!"  O'Neil 
exclaimed. 

"Yes,  I  am.  I'm  frightened  to  death,  but  I  won't 
be  a  coward."  Her  shaking  hands  and  strained  voice 
left  no  doubt  of  her  seriousness. 

"She  can't  swim,"  said  Eliza;  and  O'Neil  put  an 
end  to  this  display  of  heroism  with  a  firm  refusal. 

"You'll  think  I'm  afraid,"  Natalie  expostulated. 

"Bless  you,  of  course  we  will,  because  you  are! 
So  am  I,  and  so  is  Eliza,  for  that  matter.  If  you 
can't  swim  you'd  only  be  taking  a  foolish  risk  and 
adding  to  our  danger.  Besides,  Eliza  doesn't  know 
the  feel  of  cold  water  as  we  do." 

Natalie  smiled  a  little  tremulously  at  recollection 
of  the  shipwreck. 

"I'd  much  rather  walk,  of  course,"  she  said;  and 
then  to  Eliza,  "It  —  it  will  be  a  lovely  ramble 
for  us." 

206 


TELL    ME,    WHY   DID    YOU    INSIST   ON   COMING  ?' 


HOW   THE   TRUTH    CAME 

But  Eliza  shook  her  head.  "This  is  material  for 
my  book,  and  I'll  make  enough  out  of  it  to — 
to- 

"Buy  another  orchard,"  Murray  suggested. 

Feeling  more  resigned  now  that  the  adventure 
had  taken  on  a  purely  financial  color,  Natalie  at 
length  allowed  herself  to  be  dissuaded,  and  Eliza 
settled  herself  in  her  seat  with  the  disturbing  con 
sciousness  that  she  had  made  herself  appear  selfish 
and  rude  in  O' Neil's  eyes.  Nevertheless,  she  had  no 
notion  of  changing  her  mind. 

When  the  other  girl  had  gone  the  oarsman  com 
pleted  his  preparations  by  lashing  fast  the  contents 
of  the  skiff — a  proceeding  which  Eliza  watched  with 
some  uneasiness.  O'Neil  showed  his  resentment  by 
a  pointed  silence,  which  nettled  her,  and  she  re 
solved  to  hold  her  seat  though  the  boat  turned 
somersaults. 

Word  was  finally  given,  and  they  swung  out  into 
the  flood.  O'Neil  stood  as  best  he  could  on  his  firm 
leg,  and  steered  by  means  of  a  sculling-oar,  while 
the  Norwegian  rowed  lustily. 

Bits  of  drift,  patches  of  froth,  fragments  of  ice 
accompanied  them,  bobbing  alongside  so  persist 
ently  that  Eliza  fancied  the  boat  must  be  stationary 
until,  glancing  at  the  river-banks,  she  saw  them 
racing  past  like  the  panoramic  scenery  in  a  melo 
drama.  The  same  glance  showed  her  that  they  were 
rushing  directly  toward  the  upper  ramparts  of 
Jackson  Glacier,  as  if  for  an  assault.  Out  here  in 
the  current  there  were  waves,  and  these  increased  in 
size  as  the  bed  of  the  Salmon  grew  steeper,  until  the 
poling-boat  began  to  rear  and  leap  like  a  frightened 
horse.  The  gleaming  wall  ahead  rose  higher  with 

207 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

every  instant :  it  overhung,  a  giant,  crumbling  cliff, 
imposing,  treacherous.  Then  the  stream  turned  at 
right  angles;  they  were  swept  along  parallel  with  the 
ice  face,  and  ahead  of  them  for  three  miles  stretched 
the  gauntlet.  The  tottering  wall  seemed  almost 
within  reaching  distance;  its  breath  was  cold  and 
damp  and  clammy.  O'Neil  stood  erect  and  power 
ful  in  the  stern,  swaying  to  the  antics  of  the  craft, 
his  weight  upon  the  sweep,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
Thing  overhead.  The  Norwegian  strained  at  his 
oars  while  the  sweat  ran  down  into  his  open  shirt. 
The  boat  lunged  and  wallowed  desperately,  rising 
on  end,  falling  with  prodigious  slaps,  drenching 
the  occupants  with  spray.  It  was  splendid,  terrify 
ing!  Eliza  clung  to  her  seat  and  felt  her  heart 
beats  smothering  her.  Occasionally  the  oarsman 
turned,  staring  past  her  with  round,  frightened  eyes, 
and  affording  her  a  glimpse  of  a  face  working  with 
mingled  fear  and  exultation. 

Thus  far  the  glacier  had  not  disputed  their  pas 
sage;  it  maintained  the  silence  and  the  immobility 
of  marble;  nothing  but  the  snarl  of  the  surging 
flood  re-echoed  from  its  face.  But  with  the  sud 
denness  of  a  rifle-shot  there  came  a  detonation, 
louder,  sharper  than  any  blast  of  powder.  The 
Norwegian  cursed;  the  helmsman  dropped  his  eyes 
to  the  white  face  in  the  bow  and  smiled. 

Half  a  mile  ahead  of  them  a  mass  of  ice  came 
rumbling  down,  and  the  whole  valley  rocked  with  the 
sound.  Onward  the  little  craft  fled,  a  dancing  speck 
beneath  the  majesty  of  that  frozen  giant,  an  atom 
threatened  by  the  weight  of  mountains.  At  last 
through  the  opening  of  the  gorge  below  came  a 
glimpse  of  the  flats  that  led  to  the  sea.  A  moment 

208 


HOW    THE    TRUTH    CAME 

later  the  boat  swung  into  an  eddy  and  came  to  rest, 
bumping  against  the  boulders. 

O'Neil  sat  down,  wiping  his  wet  face. 

"  Well,  was  it  worth  your  trouble,  Miss  Kick-over 
the-traces?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  it  was  glorious!  I'll  never  forget  it." 
Eliza's  cheeks  were  burning  now,  her  aching  hands 
relaxed  their  hold,  and  she  drew  a  deep  breath — the 
first  of  which  she  had  been  conscious  since  the  start, 
fifteen  minutes  before. 

"Now,  on  with  your  boots  and  your  sweater. 
We'll  have  an  hour's  wait  for  Natalie." 

She  gave  a  cry  of  surprise  and  offered  him  a  glimpse 
of  a  trim  ankle  and  a  dripping  foot. 

4 '  See !  They're  wet,  and  I  wriggled  my  toes  right 
through  my  stockings.  I  never  was  so  excited." 

The  boatman  fastened  the  painter  and  resumed 
his  outer  clothing.  O'Neil  lit  a  cigar  and  asked: 

"Tell  me,  why  did  you  insist  on  coming?" 

"I  was  afraid  something  might  happen  to  you." 
He  raised  his  brows,  and  she  flushed.  "Don't  you 
understand?  Dan  would  never  have  forgiven  me, 
and — and — I  just  had  to  come,  that's  all.  It's  cork 
ing  material  for  me — I  thought  you  might  upset,  and 
I — I  don't  know  why  I  insisted."  She  bent  over  her 
stubborn  boots,  hiding  her  face.  She  was  flaming 
to  the  ears,  for  suddenly  she  knew  the  reason  that 
had  prompted  her.  It  rushed  upon  her  like  a  sense 
of  great  shame.  She  recalled  the  desperate  grip  at 
her  heart  when  she  had  seen  him  ready  to  leave,  the 
wildness  of  her  longing  to  share  his  danger,  the  black 
fear  that  he  might  meet  disaster  alone.  It  had  all 
come  without  warning,  and  there  had  been  no  time  for 
self -consciousness*  but  now  she  realized  the  truth. 

209 


THE   IRON   TRAIL 

The  poignant  pain  of  it  made  her  fingers  clumsy 
and  sent  that  flood  of  scarlet  to  her  neck  and 
ears. 

When  Natalie  arrived  they  cast  off,  and  the  re 
maining  miles  were  made  in  a  few  hours. 

Appleton  joined  them  for  lunch  in  the  tent  they 
remembered  so  well,  and  professed  to  be  shocked  at 
'the  report  of  his  sister's  foolhardiness.  But  what 
ever  may  have  been  Natalie's  fear  of  ridicule,  it 
promptly  disappeared  under  his  complete  indorse 
ment  of  her  wisdom  in  refraining  from  such  a  mad 
adventure.  As  if  to  put  her  even  more  at  ease, 
O'Neil  was  especially  attentive  to  her;  and  Eliza  re 
flected  gloomily  that  men,  after  all,  dislike  bravado 
in  women,  that  a  trapeze  artist  or  a  lady  balloonist 
inspires  only  a  qualified  admiration. 

During  O' Neil's  absence  work  had  progressed 
steadily.  On  his  return  he  found  the  grade  com 
pleted  to  within  a  few  yards  of  Gordon's  right-of-way. 
Although  he  was  still  unable  to  walk,  he  insisted 
upon  going  to  the  front,  whither  he  was  helped  by 
Appleton  and  "Happy  Tom.'* 

Into  the  narrow  space  between  the  end  of  his  em 
bankment  and  that  of  his  rival's  a  gravel-train  was 
spilling  its  burden,  and  a  hundred  pick-and-shovel 
men  were  busy.  The  opposing  forces  also  seemed 
hard  at  work,  but  their  activity  was  largely  a  pre 
tense,  and  they  showed  plainly  that  they  were  wait 
ing  for  the  clash.  They  were  a  hard-looking  crew, 
and  their  employer  had  neglected  no  precaution.  He 
had  erected  barricades  for  their  protection  until  his 
grade  looked  like  a  military  work. 

"They  haven't  showed  any  guns  yet,  but  I'm 
sure  they're  armed,"  Appleton  told  his  chief. 

2IO 


HOW   THE   TRUTH    CAME 

"How  is  the  place  lighted  by  night?"  O'Neil 
inquired. 

"Oil  torches,"  Slater  answered.  "Ah!  We've 
been  recognized.  That  comes  from  being  fat,  I 
s'pose." 

As  he  spoke  a  donkey-engine  at  the  right  of  the 
proposed  crossing  set  up  a  noisy  rattling,  a  thin 
steel  cable  whipped  into  view  between  the  rails,  and 
from  the  left  there  appeared  a  contrivance  which 
O'Neil  eyed  curiously.  It  was  a  sort  of  drag,  and 
rode  back  and  forth  upon  the  rails. 

"  Humph!  They'd  better  not  put  much  trust  in 
that,"  Murray  grunted,  grimly. 

"Don't  fool  yourself;  it's  no  rubber-tired  baby- 
carriage,"  said  Slater.  "Our  men  are  afraid  of  it." 

After  watching  the  device  scuttle  back  and  forth 
for  a  few  moments  O'Neil  said  shortly: 

"Post  a  notice  at  once,  offering  a  thousand  dollars 
for  any  man  who  cuts  that  cable." 

"A  thousand—"  Appleton  gasped.  "Why,  I'll 
do  it.  Let  me—" 

"No,  you  won't,"  Slater  broke  in.  "I'll  take  that 
on  myself." 

"I  spoke  first.     It's  my  first  chance,"  Dan  cried. 

"It's  my  job !     I'm  going—" 

"Wait  a  minute!"  O'Neil  silenced  the  two,  who 
were  glaring  at  each  other  angrily.  "Don't  let's 
have  any  fighting;  there  will  be  enough  of  that  later." 

"I  spoke  first,"  Dan  repeated,  stubbornly. 

"I  had  my  mouth  puckered  to  spit,  that's  why," 
the  fat  man  explained.  "A  fellow  has  to  spit — " 

"I'd  rather  you  wouldn't  volunteer,  Dan,"  said 
O'Neil. 

"Why?" 

211 


THE   IRON    TRAIL 

"You  might  get  hurt." 

" Happy  Tom"  nodded  his  agreement.  "Cer 
tainly!  Never  send  a  boy  on  a  man's  errand." 

"And  I  don't  want  you  to  do  it  either,  Tom,  for 
the  same  reason." 

Slater  mumbled  some  sort  of  sour  acquiescence, 
but  Dan  would  not  be  denied. 

"You  made  the  offer,  and  I  took  it  up,"  he  told 
O'Neil.  "Somebody  has  to  make  the  first  move,  and 
I  have  a  particular  need  for  exactly  one  thousand 
dollars.  If  they  start  a  rumpus,  it  will  give  us  the 
excuse  we're  looking  for.  I've  been  studying  that 
'go-devil'  through  field-glasses  for  two  days  now,  and 
I'll  guarantee  to  put  it  out  of  commission  before 
Gordon's  men  know  what  I'm  about.  Just  forget 
the  reward,  if  you  like,  and  give  me  a  chance." 

"What's  your  plan?"  Slater  inquired,  eagerly;  but 
Appleton  shook  his  head. 

"No  you  don't,  Tommy!"  he  said.  "I'm  wise  to 
you." 

Murray  hesitated  briefly,  then  gave  his  permission. 
"I'd  rather  you'd  let  one  of  the  rough-necks  take  the 
chance,  but  if  you  insist — " 

"I  do." 

"Then  get  your  sister's  consent — " 

Slater  swore  mournfully,  as  if  from  a  heart  filled 
with  black  despair. 

"Ain't  that  my  luck?  One  cud  of  gum  cost  me  a 
thousand  dollars!  Hell!  It  would  take  a  million 
aire  to  afford  a  habit  like  that."  He  expelled  the 
gum  violently  and  went  grumbling  off  up  the  track. 

"Sis  won't  object,"  said  Dan,  lightly.  "She'd 
offer  to  do  the  trick  herself,  for  she's  getting  the 
spirit  of  the  work." 

212 


HOW   THE   TRUTH    CAME 

When  O'Neil  had  managed  to  regain  the  camp  he 
began  preparations  for  an  attack  that  very  night, 
using  the  telephone  busily.  News  of  the  coming 
affray  quickly  spread,  and  both  the  day  and  night 
shifts  discussed  it  excitedly  at  supper-time. 

Nor  was  the  excitement  lessened  when  a  loaded 
gravel-train  rolled  in  and  Dr.  Gray  descended  from 
it  with  his  emergency  kit  and  two  helpers  from  the 
hospital  at  Omar. 

Up  to  this  point  both  Eliza  and  Natalie  had  hoped 
that  the  affair  might  not,  after  all,  turn  out  to  be 
very  serious,  but  the  presence  of  the  grim-faced 
surgeon  and  the  significant  preparations  he  set  about 
making  boded  otherwise.  Eliza  undertook  to  reason 
with  her  brother,  but  her  words  refused  to  come. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  deep  down  in  her  heart  was  a 
great  rebellion  at  the  fate  which  had  made  her  a 
woman  and  thus  debarred  her  from  an  active  part 
in  the  struggle.  Natalie,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
filled  with  dread,  and  she  made  a  much  more  vigorous 
attempt  to  dissuade  Dan  from  his  purpose  than  did 
his  sister.  But  he  refused  to  heed  even  her,  and 
soon  hurried  away  to  finish  his  preparations. 

After  supper  the  camp  settled  itself  to  wait  for 
darkness.  Night  was  slow  in  coming,  and  long  be 
fore  Appleton  signified  his  readiness  speculation  was 
rife.  With  the  approach  of  twilight  the  torches 
along  Gordon's  grade  began  to  glow  brightly.  Then 
Dan  set  his  watch  with  "Happy  Tom's,"  kissed 
Eliza,  and  made  off  across  the  tundra.  He  left  the 
S.  R.  &  N.  at  right  angles  and  continued  in  that 
direction  for  a  mile  or  more  before  swinging  about 
in  a  wide  circle  which  brought  him  well  to  the  rear 
of  Gordon's  encampment.  The  gloom  now  covered 

213 


THE   IRON   TRAIL 

his  movements,  and  by  taking  advantage  of  an  alder 
thicket  he  managed  to  approach  very  closely  to 
the  enemy's  position.  But  the  footing  was  treacher 
ous,  the  darkness  betrayed  him  into  many  a  fall, 
and  he  was  wet,  muddy,  and  perspiring  when  he 
finally  paused  not  more  than  two  hundred  feet  from 
the  scene  of  the  proposed  crossing. 


XV 


THE   BATTLE   OF   GORDON'S   CROSSING 


/CURTIS  GORDON  was  not  in  charge  of  his 
\^*  field  forces,  having  left  the  command  to  his 
favorite  jackal,  Denny.  Beneath  his  apparent  con 
tempt  for  the  law  there  lurked  a  certain  caution. 
He  knew  his  rival's  necessity,  he  appreciated  his 
cunning,  but,  wishing  to  guard  against  the  possi 
bility  of  a  personal  humiliation,  he  retired  to  Kyak, 
where  he  was  prepared  to  admit  or  to  deny  as 
much  responsibility  as  suited  him.  Denny  had  not 
forgotten  O 'Neil's  exposure  of  his  dishonesty,  and 
his  zeal  could  be  relied  upon.  He  personally  knew 
all  the  men  under  him,  he  had  coached  them  care 
fully,  and  he  assured  Gordon  of  his  ability  to  hold 
his  ground. 

Dan  Appleton,  from  his  covert,  measured  the 
preparations  for  resistance  with  some  uneasiness,  re 
flecting  that  if  Denny  had  the  nerve  to  use  firearms  he 
would  undoubtedly  rout  O' Neil's  men,  who  had  not 
been  permitted  to  carry  guns.  By  the  bright  torchlight 
he  could  see  figures  coming  and  going  along  the 
grade  like  sentinels,  and  from  within  the  barricades 
of  ties  he  heard  others  talking.  The  camp  itself, 
which  lay  farther  to  the  left,  was  lighted,  and  black 
silhouettes  were  painted  against  the  canvas  walls 
and  roofs.  Some  one  was  playing  an  accordion,  and 

215 


THE   IRON   TRAIL 

its  wailing  notes  came  to  him  intermittently.  He 
saw  that  steam  was  up  in  the  boiler  which  operated 
the  "go-devil,"  although  the  contrivance  itself  was 
stationary.  It  was  upon  this  that  he  centered  his 
attention,  consulting  his  watch  nervously. 

At  last  ten  o'clock  came,  bringing  with  it  a  sound 
which  startled  the  near-by  camp  into  activity.  It 
was  a  shrill  blast  from  an  S.  R.  &  N.  locomotive 
and  the  grinding  of  car -wheels.  The  accordion 
ceased  its  complaint,  men  poured  out  of  the  lighted 
tents,  Appleton  moved  cautiously  out  from  cover. 

He  stumbled  forward  through  the  knee-deep  mud 
and  moss,  bearing  slightly  to  his  right,  counting 
upon  the  confusion  to  mask  his  approach.  He 
timed  it  to  that  of  the  gravel-train,  which  came 
slowly  creaking  nearer,  rocking  over  the  uneven 
tracks,  then  down  upon  the  half -submerged  rails 
which  terminated  near  the  opposing  grade.  It 
stopped  finally,  with  headlight  glaring  into  the 
faces  of  Denny  and  his  troops,  and  from  the  high- 
heaped  flat  cars  tumbled  an  army  of  pick-and-shovel 
men.  During  this  hullabaloo  Appleton  slipped  out 
of  the  marsh  and  climbed  the  gravel-bed  in  time  to 
see  the  steel  cable  of  the  skip  tighten,  carrying  the 
drag  swiftly  along  the  track.  The  endless  cable 
propelling  the  contrivance  ran  through  a  metal 
block  which  was  secured  to  a  deadhead  sunk  be 
tween  the  ties,  and  up  to  this  post  Dan  hastened. 
He  carried  a  cold-chisel  and  hammer,  but  he  found 
no  use  for  them,  for  the  pulley  was  roped  to  the 
deadhead.  Drawing  his  knife,  he  sawed  at  the 
manila  strands.  Men  were  all  around  him,  but  in 
their  excitement  they  took  no  notice  of  him.  Not 
until  he  had  nearly  completed  his  task  was  he  dis- 

216 


GORDON'S    CROSSING 

covered;  then  some  one  raised  a  shout.  The  next 
instant  they  charged  upon  him,  but  his  work  had 
been  done.  With  a  snap  the  ropes  parted,  the 
cable  went  writhing  and  twisting  up  the  track,  the 
unwieldy  apparatus  came  to  a  stop. 

Dan  found  himself  beset  by  a  half-dozen  of  the 
enemy,  who,  having  singled  him  out  of  the  general 
confusion  as  the  cause  of  disaster,  came  at  him  head 
long.  But  by  this  time  O'Neil's  men  were  pouring 
out  of  the  darkness  and  overrunning  the  grade  so 
rapidly  that  there  was  little  opportunity  for  con 
certed  action.  Apple  ton  had  intended,  as  soon  as 
he  had  cut  the  cable,  to  beat  a  hasty  retreat  into 
the  marsh;  but  now,  with  the  firm  gravel  road-bed 
under  his  feet  and  the  battle  breaking  before  his 
eyes,  he  changed  his  mind.  He  carried  a  light  heart, 
and  the  love  of  trouble  romped  through  his  veins. 
He  lowered  his  head,  therefore,  and  ran  toward  his 
assailants. 

He  met  the  foremost  one  fairly  and  laid  him  out. 
He  vanquished  the  second,  then  closed  with  a  burly 
black  man  who  withstood  him  capably.  They  went 
down  together,  and  Dan  began  to  repent  his  haste, 
for  blows  rained  upon  him  and  he  became  the  target, 
not  only  of  missiles  of  every  kind,  but  of  heavy 
hobnailed  shoes  that  were  more  dangerous  than 
horses'  hoofs. 

The  engineer  dearly  loved  a  fair  fight,  even  against 
odds,  but  this  was  entirely  different :  he  was  trampled, 
stamped  upon,  kicked;  he  felt  himself  being  reduced 
to  a  pulp  beneath  the  overpowering  numbers  of 
those  savage  heels.  The  fact  that  the  black  man 
received  an  equal  share  of  the  punishment  was  all 
that  saved  Dan.  Over  and  over  between  the  ties 
15  217 


THE   IRON   TRAIL 

the  two  rolled,  scorning  no  advantage,  regarding  no 
rules  of  combat,  each  striving  to  protect  himself  at 
the  other's  expense. 

They  were  groveling  there  in  a  tangle  of  legs  and 
arms  when  "Happy  Tom"  came  down  the  grade, 
leading  a  charge  which  swept  the  embankment  clean. 

The  boss  packer  had  equipped  his  command  with 
pick-handles  and  now  set  a  brilliant  example  in  the 
use  of  this,  his  favorite  weapon.  For  once  the 
apathetic  Slater  was  fully  roused ;  he  was  tremendous, 
irresistible.  In  his  capable  grasp  the  oaken  cudgel 
became  both  armor  and  flail;  in  defense  it  was  as 
active  as  a  fencing-master's  foil,  in  offense  as  deadly 
as  the  kick  of  a  mule.  Beneath  his  formless  bulk 
were  the  muscles  of  a  gladiator;  his  eye  had  all  the 
quickness  of  a  prize-fighter.  There  was  something 
primeval,  appallingly  ferocious  about  the  fat  man, 
too:  he  fought  with  a  magnificent  enthusiasm,  a 
splendid  abandon.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  his  rage,  he 
was  clear-headed,  and  his  ears  were  sensitively 
strained  for  the  sound  of  the  first  gunshot — some 
thing  he  dreaded  beyond  measure. 

He  was  sobbing  as  much  from  anxiety  as  from  the 
violence  of  his  exertions  when  he  tore  Appleton  from 
the  clutch  of  the  black  man  and  set  him  on  his  feet. 

"Are  you  hurt,  son?"  he  gasped. 

"Sure!  I'm  —  hurt  like  hell."  Dan  spat  out  a 
mouthful  of  blood  and  sand.  "Gimme  a  club." 

"Go  back  yonder,"  Tom  directed,  swiftly.  "Nail 
Denny  before  he  gets  'em  to  shooting.  Kill  him  if 
you  have  to.  I'll  take  care  of  these  fellers." 

The  younger  man  saw  that  the  engagement  at 
this  end  of  the  line  was  no  longer  general,  but  had 
become  a  series  of  individual  combats,  so  he  made 

218 


GORDON'S    CROSSING 

what  haste  he  could  toward  the  scene  of  the  more 
serious  encounter  to  the  right  of  the  crossing.  He 
judged  that  the  issue  was  still  in  doubt  there, 
although  he  could  make  out  little  in  the  confusion 
on  account  of  the  glaring  headlight,  which  dazzled 
him. 

As  he  ran,  however,  he  discovered  that  the  S.  R. 
&  N.  forces  were  in  possession  of  the  middle  ground, 
having  divided  the  enemy's  ranks  like  a  wedge, 
and  this  encouraged  him.  Out  of  the  darkness  to 
right  and  left  came  shouts,  curses,  the  sounds  of 
men  wallowing  about  in  the  knee-deep  tundra. 
They  were  Gordon's  helpers  who  had  been  routed 
from  their  positions. 

Now  that  Appleton  had  time  to  collect  himself  he, 
too,  grew  sick  with  suspense,  for  he  knew  that  arms 
had  been  stacked  inside  the  barricades.  Any  instant 
might  bring  them  into  play.  He  began  to  wonder 
why  Denny  withheld  the  word  to  fire. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  explanation  was  simple, 
although  it  did  not  appear  until  later.  Mr.  Denny 
at  that  moment  was  in  no  condition  to  issue  orders 
of  any  kind,  the  reason  being  as  follows :  when  prepa 
rations  for  the  advance  were  made,  Dr.  Gray,  who 
understood  perhaps  more  fully  than  any  one  else 
except  O'Neil  the  gravity  of  the  issue  and  the  slender 
pivot  upon  which  the  outcome  balanced,  had  taken 
his  place  in  the  vanguard  of  the  attacking  party 
instead  of  in  the  background,  as  befitted  his  calling. 
The  first  rush  had  carried  him  well  into  the  fray, 
but  once  there  he  had  shown  his  good  judgment  by 
refusing  to  participate  in  it. 

Instead,  he  had  selected  Denny  out  of  the  opposing 
ranks  and  bored  through  the  crowd  in  his  direction, 

210 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

heedless  of  all  efforts  to  stop  him.  His  great  strength 
had  enabled  him  to  gain  ground;  he  had  hurled  his 
assailants  aside,  upsetting  them,  bursting  through 
the  press  as  a  football-player  penetrates  a  line;  and 
when  the  retreat  had  begun  he  was  close  at  the  heels 
of  his  victim.  He  had  overtaken  Denny  beside  one 
of  the  barricades  just  as  Denny  seized  a  rifle  and 
raised  it.  With  one  wrench  he  possessed  himself  of 
the  weapon,  and  the  next  instant  he  had  bent  the 
barrel  over  its  owner's  head. 

Then,  as  the  fight  surged  onward,  he  had  gathered 
the  limp  figure  in  his  arms  and  borne  it  into  the  light 
of  a  gasolene-torch,  where  he  could  administer  first 
aid.  He  was  kneeling  over  the  fellow  when  Apple- 
ton  found  him  as  he  came  stumbling  along  the 
grade. 

But  the  decisive  moment  had  come  and  gone  now, 
and  without  a  leader  to  command  them  Gordon's 
men  seemed  loath  to  adopt  a  more  bloody  reprisal. 
They  gave  way,  therefore,  in  a  half-hearted  hesita 
tion  that  spelled  ruin  to  their  cause.  They  were 
forced  back  to  their  encampment :  over  the  ground 
they  had  vacated  picks  and  shovels  began  to  fly, 
rails  were  torn  up  and  relaid,  gravel  rained  from 
the  flat  cars,  the  blockhouses  were  razed,  and 
above  the  rabble  the  locomotive  panted  and  wheezed, 
its  great  yellow  eye  glaring  through  the  night. 
When  it  backed  away  another  took  its  place;  the 
grade  rose  to  the  level  of  the  intersection,  then  as 
morning  approached  it  crept  out  beyond.  By 
breakfast -time  a  long  row  of  flats  extended  across 
the  line  which  Curtis  Gordon  had  tried  to  hold  in 
defiance  of  the  law. 

Dan  Appleton,  very  dirty,  very  tired,  but  happy, 
220 


GORDON'S    CROSSING 

found  Natalie  and  Eliza  awaiting  him  when  he 
limped  up  to  their  tent  in  the  early  morning  light. 
One  of  his  eyes  was  black  and  nearly  closed,  his 
lips  were  cut  and  swollen,  but  he  grinned  cheerfully 
as  he  exclaimed : 

"Say!     It  was  a  great  night,  wasn't  it?" 

Eliza  cried  out  in  alarm  at  his  appearance. 

"You  poor  kid!  You're  a  sight."  She  ran  for 
hot  water  and  soap,  while  Natalie  said,  warmly: 

' '  You  were  perfectly  splendid,  Dan.  I  knew  you'd 
do  it." 

"Did  you?"  He  tried  to  smile  his  appreciation, 
but  the  effort  resulted  in  a  leer  so  repulsive  that  the 
girl  looked  dismayed.  "You  ought  to  have  seen  the 
shindy." 

' '  Seen  it !     Maybe  we  didn't !" 

"Honestly?" 

"Did  you  think  we  could  stay  behind?  We 
sneaked  along  with  the  cook-house  gang,  and  one  of 
them  helped  us  up  on  the  gravel-cars.  He  smelled 
of  dish-water,  but  he  was  a  hero.  We  screamed  and 
cried,  and  Eliza  threw  stones  until  Mr.  O'Neil  dis 
covered  us  and  made  us  get  down.  He  was  awfully 
mean." 

"He's  a  mean  man." 

"He  isn't!  He  was  jumping  around  on  one  leg 
like  a  crippled  grasshopper." 

"I  made  a  thousand  dollars,"  said  Dan.  "Guess 
what  I'm  going  to  do  with  it?" 

"How  can  I  guess?" 

"I'm  going  to  buy  an  engagement  ring."  Once 
more  he  leered  repulsively. 

"How  nice!"  said  Natalie,  coolly.  "Congratu 
lations!" 

221 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

4 'Guess  who  it's  for?" 

"I  couldn't,  really." 

"It's  for  you." 

"Oh  no,  it  isn't!"  Natalie's  voice  was  freezing. 
"You  have  made  a  mistake,  a  very  great  mistake, 
Dan.  I  like  you,  but — we  won't  even  mention  such 
things,  if  you  please." 

Eliza's  entrance  saved  her  further  embarrassment, 
and  she  quickly  made  her  escape.  Dan  groaned  so 
deeply  as  his  sister  bathed  his  injuries  that  she  was 
really  concerned. 

"Goodness,  Danny,"  she  said,  "are  you  as  badly 
hurt  as  all  that?" 

"I'm  worse,"  he  confessed.  "I've  just  been  shot 
through  the  heart.  Slow  music  and  flowers  for  me! 
Arrange  for  the  services  and  put  a  rose  in  my  hand, 
Sis." 

"Nonsense!  I'll  put  a  beefsteak  on  your  eye," 
she  told  him,  unfeelingly. 

Under  Dr.  Gray's  attention  O'Neil's  ankle  began 
to  mend,  and  by  the  time  the  track  had  been  laid 
far  enough  beyond  the  crossing  to  insure  against 
further  interference  from  Gordon  he  declared  him 
self  ready  to  complete  the  journey  to  Kyak,  which 
he  and  the  girls  had  begun  nearly  three  weeks 
before. 

During  the  interval  Eliza  had  occupied  herself  in 
laying  out  her  magazine  stories,  and  now  she  was 
eager  to  complete  her  investigations  so  as  to  begin  the 
final  writing.  Her  experience  in  the  north  thus  far 
had  given  her  an  altered  outlook  upon  the  railroad 
situation,  but  as  yet  she  knew  little  of  the  coal 
problem.  That,  after  all,  was  the  more  important 
subject,  and  she  expected  it  to  afford  her  the  basis  for 

222 


GORDON'S    CROSSING 

a  sensational  exposure.  She  had  come  to  Alaska 
sharing  her  newspaper's  views  upon  questions  of 
public  policy,  looking  upon  Murray  O'Neil  as  a  dar 
ing  promoter  bent  upon  seizing  the  means  of  trans 
portation  of  a  mighty  realm  for  his  own  individual 
profit;  upon  Gordon  as  an  unscrupulous  adventurer; 
and  upon  the  Copper  Trust  as  a  greedy  corporation 
reaching  out  to  strangle  competition  and  absorb 
the  riches  of  the  northland.  But  she  had  found 
O'Neil  an  honorably  ambitious  man,  busied,  like 
others,  in  the  struggle  for  success,  and  backing  his 
judgment  with  his  last  dollar.  She  had  learned, 
moreover,  to  sympathize  with  his  aims,  and  his 
splendid  determination  awoke  her  admiration.  Her 
idea  of  the  Trust  had  changed,  likewise,  for  it  seemed 
to  be  a  fair  and  dignified  competitor.  She  had  seen 
no  signs  of  that  conscienceless,  grasping  policy 
usually  imputed  to  big  business.  In  regard  to 
Gordon  alone,  her  first  conviction  had  remained 
unchanged.  He  was,  in  truth,  as  evil  as  he  had 
been  reputed. 

The  readjustment  of  her  ideas  had  been  disap 
pointing,  in  a  way,  since  it  robbed  her  of  a  large  part 
of  her  ammunition ;  but  she  consoled  herself  with  the 
thought  that  she  had  not  yet  reached  the  big,  vital 
story  which  most  deeply  concerned  the  welfare  of 
the  north. 

She  was  a  bit  afraid  to  pursue  her  inquiries  into 
the  coal  subject,  for  her  ideas  were  fixed,  and  she 
feared  that  O' Neil's  activities  merited  condemna 
tion.  In  his  railroad-building,  she  believed,  he  was 
doing  a  fine  work,  but  the  coal  was  another  matter. 
Obviously  it  belonged  to  the  people,  and  he  had  no 
right  to  lay  hands  upon  their  heritage. 

223 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

She  wondered  if  it  would  not  be  possible  to  omit 
all  mention  of  him  in  her  coal  stories  and  center 
attention  upon  the  Trust.  It  was  impossible  for 
her  to  attack  him  now,  since  she  had  come  to  under 
stand  her  feelings  toward  him.  Even  so,  she  re 
flected  with  horror  that  if  her  articles  created  the 
comment  she  anticipated  their  effect  would  be  to 
rob  him  of  his  holdings.  But  she  took  her  work  very 
seriously,  and  her  sense  of  duty  was  unwavering. 
She  was  one  of  the  few  who  guide  themselves  by  the 
line  of  principle,  straight  through  all  other  consid 
erations.  She  would  write  what  she  found  true, 
for  that  was  her  mission  in  life.  If  Murray  proved 
culpable  she  would  grieve  over  his  wrong-doing — and 
continue  to  love  him. 

O'Neil  had  recognized  her  sincerity,  and  on  the 
broad  subject  of  conservation  he  had  done  nothing 
to  influence  her  views.  He  preferred  to  let  her  see 
the  workings  of  the  principle  and,  after  actually 
meeting  some  of  those  who  had  suffered  by  it,  form 
her  own  conclusions.  It  was  for  this  reason  mainly 
that  he  had  arranged  the  trip  to  Kyak. 

The  journey  in  a  small  boat  gave  Eliza  a  longed- 
for  opportunity  to  discuss  with  him  the  questions 
which  troubled  her.  He  was  uncommunicative  at 
first,  but  she  persisted  in  her  attempt,  drawing  him 
out  in  the  hope  of  showing  him  the  error  of  his  ways. 
At  last  she  provoked  him  to  a  vigorous  defense  of  his 
views. 

"Conservation  is  no  more  than  economy,"  he  de 
clared,  "and  no  one  opposes  that.  It's  the  misap 
plication  of  the  principle  that  has  retarded  Alaska 
and  ruined  so  many  of  us.  The  situation  would  be 
laughable  if  it  weren't  so  tragic." 

224 


GORDON'S    CROSSING 

"Of  course  you  blame  your  troubles  on  the  Gov 
ernment.  That's  one  thing  governments  are  for." 

"Our  ancestors  blamed  King  George  for  their 
troubles,  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  a  war 
resulted.  But  every  abuse  they  suffered  is  suffered 
by  the  people  of  Alaska  to-day,  and  a  lot  more  be 
sides.  Certainly  England  never  violated  her  con 
tracts  with  the  colonies  half  so  flagrantly  as  our 
Government  has  violated  its  contracts  with  us." 

"Of  course  you  exaggerate." 

"I  don't.  Judge  for  yourself.  The  law  offers 
every  citizen  the  chance — in  fact,  it  invites  him — to 
go  upon  the  public  domain  and  search  for  treasure. 
If  he  is  successful  it  permits  him  to  locate  the  land  in 
blocks,  and  it  agrees  to  grant  him  a  clear  title  after 
he  does  a  certain  amount  of  work  and  pays  a  fixed 
price.  Further,  it  says  in  effect:  'Realizing  that 
you  may  need  financial  assistance  in  this  work,  we 
will  allow  you  to  locate  not  only  for  yourself,  but 
also  for  your  friends,  through  their  powers  of  at 
torney,  and  thus  gain  their  co-operation  for  your 
mutual  advantage.  These  are  the  rules,  and  they 
are  binding  upon  all  parties  to  this  agreement; 
you  keep  your  part,  we  will  keep  ours.'  Now  then, 
some  pioneers,  at  risk  of  life  and  health,  came  to 
Kyak  and  found  coal.  They  located  it,  they  did  all 
the  law  required  them  to  do — but  did  the  Govern 
ment  keep  its  word?  Not  at  all.  It  was  charged 
that  some  of  them  hadn't  conformed  strictly  to  the 
letter  of  the  agreement,  and  therefore  all  the  claims 
were  blacklisted.  Because  one  man  was  alleged 
to  have  broken  his  contract  the  Government  broke 
its  contract  with  every  man  who  had  staked  a  coal 
claim,  not  only  at  Kyak,  but  anywhere  else  in  Alaska. 

225 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

Guilty  and  innocent  were  treated  alike.  I  was  one 
of  the  latter.  Was  our  money  returned  to  us  ?  No ! 
The  Government  had  it  and  it  kept  it,  along  with  the 
land.  We've  been  holding  on  now  for  years,  and  the 
Interior  Department  has  tried  by  various  means  to 
shake  us  off.  The  law  has  been  changed  repeatedly 
at  the  whim  of  every  theorist  who  happened  to  be  in 
power.  It  has  been  changed  without  notice  to  us, 
even  while  we  were  out  in  the  wilderness  trying  to 
comply  with  the  regulations  already  imposed.  You 
can  see  how  it  worked  in  the  case  of  Natalie  and  her 
mother.  The  Government  succeeded  in  shaking 
them  off." 

"That's  only  one  side  of  the  question,"  said 
Eliza.  "You  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  this  treasure 
never  really  belonged  to  you,  but  to  the  public. 
The  coal-lands  were  withdrawn  from  entry  because 
men  like  you  and  the  agents  of  the  Heidlemanns 
were  grabbing  it  all  up." 

O'Neil  shook  his  head,  frowning.  "That's  what 
the  papers  say,  but  it  isn't  true.  There  are  twenty 
million  acres  of  coal  in  Alaska,  and  not  more  than 
thirty  thousand  acres  have  been  located.  The  law 
gave  me  the  right  to  locate  and  buy  coal  claims,  and 
I  took  advantage  of  it.  Now  it  tells  me  that  I  have 
money  enough,  and  takes  back  what  it  gave.  If  it 
did  the  right  thing  it  would  grant  patents  to  those 
who  located  under  the  law  as  it  then  existed  and 
withdraw  the  rest  of  the  land  from  entry  if  advisable. 
This  country  needs  two  things  to  make  it  prosper — 
transportation  and  fuel.  We  are  doing  our  best  to 
supply  the  first  in  spite  of  hindrance  from  Washing 
ton  ;  but  the  fuel  has  been  locked  away  from  us  as  if 
behind  stone  walls.  Rich  men  must  be  brave  to  risk 

226 


GORDON'S    CROSSING 

their  dollars  here  under  existing  conditions,  for  they 
are  not  permitted  to  utilize  the  mines,  the  timber, 
or  the  water-power,  except  upon  absurd  and  un 
reasonable  terms.  Why,  I've  seen  timber  lying  four 
layers  deep  and  rotting  where  it  lies.  The  Govern 
ment  won't  save  it,  nor  will  it  allow  us  to  do  so. 
That's  been  its  policy  throughout.  It  is  strangling 
industry  and  dedicating  Alaska  to  eternal  solitude. 
Railroads  are  the  keys  by  which  this  realm  can  be 
unlocked;  coal  is  the  strength  by  which  those  keys 
can  be  turned.  The  keys  are  fitted  to  the  lock, 
but  our  fingers  are  paralyzed.  For  eight  years 
Alaska's  greatest  wealth  has  lain  exposed  to  view, 
but  the  Government  has  posted  the  warning,  '  Hands 
off!  Some  one  among  you  is  a  crook!'  Meanwhile 
the  law  has  been  suspended,  the  country  has  stag 
nated,  men  have  left  dispirited  or  broken,  towns 
have  been  abandoned.  The  cost  in  dollars  to  me, 
for  instance,  has  been  tremendous.  I'm  laying  my 
track  alongside  rich  coal-fields,  but  if  I  picked  up  a 
chunk  from  my  own  claim  to  throw  at  a  chipmunk 
I'd  become  a  lawbreaker.  I  import  from  Canada 
the  fuel  to  drive  my  locomotives  past  my  own  coal- 
beds — which  I  have  paid  for — and  I  pay  five  times 
the  value  of  that  fuel,  forty  per  cent,  of  which  is  duty. 
I  haul  it  two  thousand  miles,  while  there  are  a  bil 
lion  tons  of  better  quality  beneath  my  feet.  Do 
you  call  that  conservation?  I  call  it  waste." 

"Fraud  was  practised  at  the  start,  and  of  course 
it  takes  time  to  find  out  just  where  it  lay." 

"That's  the  excuse,  but  after  all  these  years  no 
fraud  has  been  proved.  In  administering  the 
criminal  law  there  is  an  axiom  to  the  effect  that  it  is 
better  for  ninety-nine  guilty  men  to  escape  than  for 

227 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

one  innocent  man  to  suffer,  but  the  Land  Office  says 
that  ninety-nine  innocent  Alaskans  shall  suffer 
rather  than  that  one  guilty  man  shall  escape.  The 
cry  of  fraud  is  only  a  pretense,  raised  to  cover  the 
main  issue.  There's  something  sinister  back  of  it." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"A  conspiracy  of  the  Eastern  coal-operators  and 
the  transcontinental  freight-lines." 

"How  ridiculous!"  cried  Eliza. 

"You  think  so?  Listen!  Since  all  the  high- 
grade  coal  of  the  Pacific  coast  must  come  from  the 
East,  who,  then,  would  discourage  the  opening  of 
local  fields  but  those  very  interests?  Every  ton  we 
burn  means  a  profit  to  the  Eastern  miner  and  the 
railroad  man.  Yes,  and  twenty  per  cent,  of  the 
heat  units  of  every  ton  hauled  are  consumed  in 
transportation.  Isn't  that  waste?  Every  two  years 
it  costs  our  navy  the  price  of  a  battle-ship  to  bring 
coal  to  the  Pacific  fleet,  while  we  have  plenty  of 
better  fuel  right  here  on  the  ground.  Our  coal  is 
twenty-five  hundred  miles  nearer  to  the  Philippines 
than  San  Francisco,  and  twelve  thousand  miles 
nearer  than  its  present  source.  If  Alaskan  coal-beds 
were  opened  up,  we  wouldn't  have  this  yearly  fight 
for  battle-ship  appropriations;  we'd  make  ourselves 
a  present  of  a  first-class  navy  for  nothing.  No, 
our  claims  were  disputed,  and  the  dispute  was  thrown 
into  politics  to  keep  us  out  of  competition  with  our 
Eastern  cousins.  We  Alaskans  sat  in  a  game  with 
high  stakes,  but  after  the  cards  were  dealt  the  rules 
were  changed." 

"You  argue  very  well,"  said  Eliza,  who  was  a  bit 
dazed  at  this  unexpected,  forceful  counter-attack, 
"but  you  haven't  convinced  me  that  this  coal  should 

228 


GORDON'S    CROSSING 

be  thrown  open    to  the  first    person  who    comes 
along." 

"I  didn't  expect  to  convince  you.  It's  hard  to 
convince  a  woman  whose  mind  is  made  up.  It 
would  take  hours  to  cover  the  subject;  but  I  want 
to  open  your  eyes  to  the  effect  of  this  new-fangled 
national  policy.  Any  great  principle  may  work  evil 
if  it  isn't  properly  directed,  and  in  Kyak  you'll  see 
the  results  of  conservation  ignorantly  applied.  You'll 
see  how  it  has  bound  and  gagged  a  wonderful  coun 
try,  and  made  loyal  Americans  into  ragged,  bitter 
traitors  who  would  spit  upon  the  flag  they  used  to 
cherish." 

"Is  that  the  only  reason  why  you  came  along — 
just  to  make  sure  that  I  saw  all  this?" 

"No.  I  want  to  look  at  the  Heidlemann  break 
water.  My  fortune  hangs  upon  it." 

"It's  as  serious  as  that?" 

O'Neil  shrugged.  "I'm  waiting  for  the  wind. 
My  coal  is  in  the  hands  of  the  bureaucracy  at 
Washington,  my  railroad  is  in  the  hands  of  the 
wind  god.  Incidentally,  I'd  much  rather  trust  the 
god  than  the  Government." 

Natalie,  who  had  listened  so  far  without  the  least 
sign  of  interest,  now  spoke  up. 

"If  the  storm  doesn't  come  to  your  help,  will  you 
be  ruined?"  she  asked. 

Murray  smiled  cheerfully.  ' '  No  man  is  ruined  as 
long  as  he  keeps  his  dreams.  Money  isn't  much, 
after  all,  and  failure  is  merely  a  schooling.  But — 
I  won't  fail.  Autumn  is  here:  the  tempest  is  my 
friend;  and  he  won't  be  long  in  coming  now.  He'll 
arrive  with  the  equinox,  and  when  he  does  he'll 
hold  my  fortune  in  his  hand." 

220 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

''Why,  the  equinoctial  storm  is  due,"  said  Eliza. 

"Exactly!     That's  why  I'm  going  to  meet  it  and 
to  bid  it  welcome." 

The  village  of  Kyak  lay  near  the  mouth  of  the 
most  easterly  outlet  of  the  Salmon,  and  it  was  similar 
in  most  respects  to  Hope  and  to  Omar,  save  that  it 
looked  out  across  a  shallow,  unprotected  bay  to  the 
open  reaches  of  the  north  Pacific.  The  shores  were 
low;  a  pair  of  rocky  islets  afforded  the  only  shelter 
to  its  shipping,  and  it  was  from  these  as  a  starting- 
point  that  the  Copper  Trust  had  built  its  break 
water.  A  trestle  across  the  tide-flats  connected  the 
work  with  the  mainland,  and  along  this  rock-trains 
crawled,  adding  their  burdens  to  the  strength  of  the 
barrier.  Protected  by  this  arm  of  steel  and  stone 
and  timber  lay  the  terminal  buildings  of  the  Alaska 
Northern,  as  the  Heidlemann  line  was  called,  and 
there  also  lay  the  terminus  of  the  old  McDermott 
enterprise  into  which  Curtis  Gordon  had  infused 
new  life.  Both  places  showed  plenty  of  activity 
when  O'Neil  and  his  two  companions  arrived,  late 
one  afternoon. 

Kyak,  they  found,  was  inferior  to  Omar  in  its 
public  accommodations,  and  Murray  was  at  a  loss 
to  find  shelter  for  the  girls  until  his  arrival  was  made 
known  to  the  agents  of  the  Alaska  Northern.  Then 
Mr.  Trevor,  the  engineer  in  charge,  looked  him  up 
and  insisted  upon  sharing  his  quarters  with  the 
visitors.  In  Trevor's  bearing  was  no  suggestion  of 
an  enmity  like  Gordon's.  He  welcomed  his  rival 
warmly — and  indeed  the  Trust  had  never  been  small 
in  its  opposition.  O'Neil  accepted  the  invitation 
gratefully. 

After  dinner  he  took  Natalie  with  him  to  see  the 

230 


GORDON'S    CROSSING 

sights,  while  Eliza  profited  by  the  opportunity  to 
interview  Trevor.  In  her  numerous  tilts  with 
O'Neil  she  had  not  been  over-successful  from  the 
point  of  view  of  her  magazine  articles,  but  here  at 
her  hand  was  the  representative  of  the  power  best 
known  and  best  hated  for  its  activities  in  the  north- 
land,  and  he  seemed  perfectly  willing  to  talk. 
Surely  from  him  she  would  get  information  that 
would  count. 

"Understand,  I'm  on  the  side  of  your  enemies,'* 
she  warned  him. 

"So  is  everybody  else,"  Mr.  Trevor  laughed; 
"but  that's  because  we're  misunderstood.'* 

"The  intentions  of  any  Trust  warrant  suspicion." 

He  shrugged.  "The  Heidlemanns  are  just  ordi 
nary  business  men,  like  O'Neil,  looking  for  invest 
ment.  They  heard  of  a  great  big  copper-field  hidden 
away  back  yonder  in  the  mountains,  and  they 
bought  what  they  considered  to  be  the  best  group 
of  claims.  They  knew  the  region  was  difficult  of 
access,  but  they  figured  that  a  railroad  from  tide 
water  would  open  up  not  only  their  own  properties, 
but  the  rest  of  the  copper-belt  and  the  whole  interior 
country.  They  began  to  build  a  road  from  Cortez, 
when  some  'shoe-stringer'  raised  the  cry  that  they 
had  monopolized  the  world's  greatest  copper  sup 
ply,  and  had  double-cinched  it  by  monopolizing 
transportation  also.  That  started  the  fuss.  They 
needed  cheap  coal,  of  course,  just  as  everybody  else 
needs  it;  but  somebody  discovered  the  danger  of  a 
monopoly  of  that  and  set  up  another  shout.  Ever 
since  then  the  yellow  press  has  been  screaming. 
The  Government  withdrew  all  coal-lands  from  entry, 
and  it  now  refuses  to  grant  patents  to  that  which 

231 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

had  been  properly  located.  We  don't  own  a  foot 
of  Alaskan  coal-land,  Miss  Appleton.  On  the  con 
trary,  we  haul  our  fuel  from  British  Columbia,  just 
like  O'Neil  and  Gordon.  Those  who  would  like  to 
sell  local  coal  to  us  are  prevented  from  doing  so." 

"It  sounds  well  to  hear  you  tell  it,"  said  Eliza. 
"But  the  minute  the  coal  patents  are  issued  you  will 
buy  what  you  want,  then  freeze  out  the  other  people. 
You  expect  to  control  the  mines,  the  railroads,  and 
the  steamship  lines,  but  public  necessities  like  coal 
and  oil  and  timber  and  water-power  should  belong 
to  the  people.  There  has  been  an  awakening  of  the 
public  conscience,  and  the  day  of  monopolized 
necessities  is  passing." 

"As  long  as  men  own  coal-mines  they  will  sell 
them.  Here  we  are  faced  not  by  a  question  of  what 
may  happen,  but  of  what  has  happened.  If  you 
agreed  to  buy  a  city  lot  from  a  real-estate  dealer, 
and  after  you  paid  him  his  price  he  refused  to  give 
you  a  deed,  you'd  at  least  expect  your  money  back, 
wouldn't  you?  Well,  that's  the  case  of  Uncle  Sam 
and  the  Alaskan  miners.  He  not  only  refuses  to 
deliver  the  lot,  but  keeps  the  money,  and  forces 
them  to  pay  more  every  year.  I  represent  a  body 
of  rich  men  who,  because  of  their  power,  are  regarded 
with  suspicion;  but  if  they  did  anything  so  dishonest 
as  what  our  Government  has  done  to  its  own  people 
they  would  be  jailed." 

' '  No  doubt  there  has  been  some  injustice,  but  the 
great  truth  remains  that  the  nation  should  own  its 
natural  resources,  and  should  not  allow  favored 
individuals  to  profit  by  the  public  need." 

"You  mean  railroads  and  coal-fields  and  such 
things?" 

232 


GORDON'S    CROSSING 

"I  do." 

Trevor  shook  his  head.  "If  the  people  of  Alaska 
waited  for  a  Government  railroad,  they'd  die  of 
old  age  and  be  buried  where  they  died,  for  lack  of 
transportation.  The  Government  owns  telegraph- 
lines  here,  but  it  charges  us  five  times  the  rates  of 
the  Western  Union.  No,  Miss  Appleton,  we're  not 
ready  for  Government  ownership,  and  even  if  we 
were  it  wouldn't  affect  the  legality  of  what  has  been 
done.  Through  fear  that  the  Heidlemanns  might 
profit  this  whole  country  has  been  made  to  stagnate. 
Alaska  is  being  depopulated;  houses  and  stores  are 
closed;  people  are  leaving  despondent.  Alaskans 
are  denied  self-government  in  any  form;  theories  are 
tried  at  their  expense,  but  they  are  never  consulted. 
Not  only  does  Congress  fail  to  enact  new  laws  to 
meet  their  needs,  but  it  refuses  to  proceed  under  the 
laws  that  already  exist.  If  the  same  policy  had 
been  pursued  in  the  settlement  of  the  Middle  West 
that  applies  to  this  country,  the  buffalo  would  still 
be  king  of  the  plains  and  Chicago  would  be  a  frontier 
town.  You  seem  to  think  that  coal  is  the  most 
important  issue  up  here,  but  it  isn't.  Transporta 
tion  is  what  the  country  needs,  for  the  main  riches 
of  Alaska  are  as  useless  to-day  as  if  hidden  away  in 
the  chasms  of  the  moon.  O'Neil  had  the  right  idea 
when  he  selected  the  Salmon  River  route,  but  he 
made  an  error  of  judgment,  and  he  lost." 

"He  hasn't  lost!"  cried  Eliza,  in  quick  defense  of 
her  friend.  "Your  breakwater  hasn't  been  tested 
yet." 

"Oh,  it  will  hold,"  Trevor  smiled.  "It  has  cost 
too  much  money  not  to  hold." 

"Wait  until  the  storms  come,"  the  girl  persisted. 
16  233 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"That's  what  we're  doing,  and  from  present  indi 
cations  we  won't  have  much  longer  to  wait.  Weather 
has  been  breeding  for  several  days,  and  the  equinox 
is  here.  Of  course  I'm  anxious,  but — I  built  that 
breakwater,  and  it  can't  go  out." 

When  O'Neil  and  Natalie  returned  they  found  the 
two  still  arguing.  "Haven't  you  finished  your  tire 
some  discussions?"  asked  Natalie. 

"Mr.  Trevor  has  almost  convinced  me  that  the 
octopus  is  a  noble  creature,  filled  with  high  ideals 
and  writhing  at  the  thrusts  of  the  muck-rakers," 
Eliza  told  them. 

But  at  that  the  engineer  protested.  "No,  no!" 
he  said.  "I  haven't  half  done  justice  to  the  subject. 
There  are  a  dozen  men  in  Kyak  to-night  who  could 
put  up  a  much  stronger  case  than  I.  There's 
McCann,  for  instance.  He  was  a  prospector  back 
in  the  States  until  he  made  a  strike  which  netted 
him  a  hundred  thousand  dollars.  He  put  nearly 
all  of  it  into  Kyak  coal  claims  and  borrowed  seventy 
thousand  more.  He  got  tired  of  the  interminable 
delay  and  finally  mined  a  few  tons  which  he  sent  out 
for  a  test  in  the  navy.  It  had  better  steaming 
qualities  than  the  Eastern  coal  now  being  used,  but 
six  weeks  later  an  agent  of  the  Land  Office  ordered 
him  to  cease  work  until  his  title  had  been  passed 
upon.  That  was  two  years  ago,  and  nothing  has 
been  done  since.  No  charges  of  irregularity  of  any 
sort  have  ever  been  filed  against  McCann  or  his 
property.  The  Government  has  had  his  money  for 
five  years,  and  still  he  can't  get  a  ruling.  He's 
broke  now  and  too  old  to  make  a  living.  He's 
selling  pies  on  the  street — " 

"He  borrowed  a  dollar  from  me  just  now,"  said 

234 


GORDON'S    CROSSING 

O'Neil,  who  was  staring  out  of  a  window.  Suddenly 
he  turned  and  addressed  his  host.  "Trevor,  it's 
going  to  storm."  His  voice  was  harsh,  his  eyes  were 
eager;  his  tone  brought  the  engineer  to  his  side. 
Together  they  looked  out  across  the  bay. 

The  southern  sky  was  leaden,  the  evening  had 
been  shortened  by  a  rack  of  clouds  which  came 
hurrying  in  from  the  sea. 

"Let  it  storm,"  said  Trevor,  after  a  moment. 
"I'm  ready." 

"Have  you  ever  seen  it  blow  here?" 

"The  old-timers  tell  me  I  haven't,  but — I've 
seen  some  terrible  storms.  Of  course  the  place  is 
unusual— 

"In  what  way?"  Eliza  inquired. 

"The  whole  country  back  of  here  is  ice-capped. 
This  coast  for  a  hundred  miles  to  the  east  is  glacial. 
The  cold  air  inland  and  the  warm  air  from  the  Japa 
nese  Current  are  always  at  war." 

"There  is  a  peculiar  difference  in  air-pressures, 
too,"  O'Neil  explained.  "Over  the  wrarm  interior 
it  is  high,  and  over  the  coast  range  it  is  low ;  so  every 
valley  becomes  a  pathway  for  the  wind.  But  that 
isn't  where  the  hurricanes  come  from.  They're  born 
out  yonder."  He  pointed  out  beyond  the  islands 
from  which  the  breakwater  flung  its  slender  arm. 
"This  may  be  only  a  little  storm,  Trevor,  but  some 
day  the  sea  and  the  air  will  come  together  and  wipe 
out  all  your  work.  Then  you'll  see  that  I  was  right." 

"You  told  me  that  more  than  a  year  ago,  but  I 
backed  my  skill  against  your  prophecy." 

O'Neil  answered  him  gravely:  "Men  like  you  and 
me  become  over-confident  of  our  powers;  we  grow 
arrogant,  but  after  all  we're  only  pygmies." 

13S 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"If  Nature  beats  me  here,  I'm  a  ruined  man," 
said  the  engineer. 

"And  if  you  defeat  her,  I'm  ruined."  O'Neil 
smiled  at  him. 

"Let's  make  medicine,  the  way  the  Indians  did, 
and  call  upon  the  Spirit  of  the  Wind  to  settle  the 
question,"  Eliza  suggested,  with  a  woman's  quick 
instinct  for  relieving  a  situation  that  threatened  to 
become  constrained.  She  and  Natalie  ran  to  Trev 
or's  sideboard,  and,  seizing  bottle  and  shaker,  brewed 
a  magic  broth,  while  the  two  men  looked  on.  They 
murmured  incantations,  they  made  mystic  passes, 
then  bore  the  glasses  to  their  companions. 

As  the  men  faced  each  other  Natalie  cried: 

"To  the  Wind!" 

"Yes!     More  power  to  it!"  Eliza  echoed. 

Trevor  smiled.     "I  drink  defiance." 

"In  my  glass  I  see  nope  and  confidence,"  said 
O'Neil.  "May  the  storm  profit  him  who  most 
deserves  help." 

Despite  their  lightness,  there  was  a  certain  gravity 
among  the  four,  and  as  the  night  became  more 
threatening  they  felt  a  growing  suspense.  The 
men's  restlessness  communicated  itself  to  the  girls, 
who  found  themselves  listening  with  almost  painful 
intentness  to  the  voice  of  the  wind  and  the  rumble 
of  the  surf,  which  grew  louder  with  every  hour. 
By  bed-time  a  torrent  of  rain  was  sweeping  past, 
the  roof  strained,  the  windows  were  sheeted  with 
water.  Now  and  then  the  clamor  ceased,  only  to 
begin  with  redoubled  force.  Trevor's  guests  were 
glad  indeed  of  their  snug  shelter. 

As  Natalie  prepared  for  bed  she  said:  "It  was  fine 
of  Mr.  Trevor  to  treat  Murray  O'Neil  so  nicely. 

236 


GORDON'S    CROSSING 

No  one  would  dream  that  they  were  rivals,  or 
that  one's  success  means  the  other's  ruin.  Now 
Gordon — "  She  turned  to  see  her  friend  kneeling 
at  the  bedside,  and  apologized  quickly. 

Eliza  lifted  her  face  and  said  simply,  ''I'm  praying 
for  the  Wind." 

Natalie  slipped  down  beside  her  and  bowed  her 
dark  head  close  to  the  light  one.  They  remained 
there  for  a  long  time,  while  outside  the  rain  pelted, 
the  surf  roared,  and  the  wind  came  shrieking  in  from 
the  sea. 


XVI 

THE   FRUIT   OF   THE   TEMPEST 

NEITHER  O'Neil  nor  his  host  was  in  sight  when 
the  girls  came  to  breakfast.  The  men  had 
risen  early,  it  seemed,  and  were  somewhere  out  in 
the  storm.  A  wilder  day  would  be  hard  to  imagine; 
a  hurricane  was  raging,  the  rain  was  whirled  ahead 
of  it  like  charges  of  shot.  The  mountains  behind 
Kyak  were  invisible,  and  to  seaward  was  nothing 
but  a  dimly  discernible  smother  of  foam  and  spray, 
for  the  crests  of  the  breakers  were  snatched  up  and 
carried  by  the  wind.  The  town  was  sodden;  the 
streets  were  running  mud.  Stove-pipes  were  down, 
tents  lay  flattened  in  the  mire,  and  the  board  houses 
were  shaking  as  if  they  might  fly  to  pieces  at  any 
moment.  The  darkness  was  uncanny,  and  the  tem 
pest  seemed  to  be  steadily  growing  in  violence. 

When  an  hour  or  two  had  passed  with  no  word 
from  the  men  Eliza  announced  her  intention  of  look 
ing  them  up.  She  had  spent  the  time  at  a  window, 
straining  her  eyes  through  the  welter,  while  Natalie 
had  curled  up  cozily  with  a  book  in  one  of  Trevor's 
arm-chairs. 

"But,  dearie,  you'll  be  drenched. ' '  Natalie  looked 
up  in  surprise.  "Mr.  O'Neil  is  all  right." 

"Of  course  he  is.  I'm  not  going  out  to  spank  him 
and  bring  him  in.  I  want  to  look  at  the  storm." 

238 


THE    TEMPEST'S    FRUIT 

"So  do  I,  but  it  won't  do  any  good.  I  can't  make 
it  blow  any  harder  by  getting  my  feet  wet." 

"You  read  your  novel  and  talk  to  Mr.  Trevor  when 
he  comes  back.  He  knows  we're  to  blame  for  this 
storm,  so  you  must  be  nice  to  him.  I  can't."  She 
clad  herself  in  rain-coat,  sou'wester,  and  boots,  and 
hurried  out.  Walking  was  difficult  enough,  even 
in  the  shelter  of  the  village,  but  not  until  she  had 
emerged  upon  the  beach  did  she  meet  the  full  strength 
of  the  gale.  Here  it  wrapped  her  garments  about 
her  limbs  until  she  could  scarcely  move.  The  rain 
came  horizontally  and  blinded  her;  the  wind  fairly 
snatched  her  breath  away  and  oppressed  her  lungs 
like  a  heavy  weight.  She  shielded  herself  as  best 
she  could,  and  by  clinging  to  stationary  objects  and 
watching  her  chance  she  managed  to  work  her  way 
onward.  At  last  she  caught  sight  of  O'Neil,  standing 
high  above  the  surf,  facing  the  wind  defiantly,  as 
if  daring  it  to  unfoot  him.  He  saw  her  and  came  in 
answer  to  her  signal ;  but  to  breast  that  wind  was  like 
stemming  a  rushing  torrent,  and  when  he  reached  her 
side  he  was  panting. 

' '  Child !     What  are  you  doing  here  ? "  he  demanded. 

"I  couldn't  wait  any  longer,"  she  shouted  back. 
"You've  been  out  since  daylight.  You  must  be  wet 
through." 

He  nodded.  "I  lay  awake  all  night  listening. 
So  did  Trevor.  He's  beginning  to  worry  already." 

"Already?     If  the  breakwater  stands  this — " 

"The  storm  hasn't  half  started!  Come!  We'll 
watch  it  together."  He  took  her  hand,  and  they 
lunged  into  the  gale,  battling  their  way  back  to  his 
point  of  vantage.  He  paused  at  length,  and  with 
his  arm  .about  her  pointed  to  the  milk-white  chaos 

239 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

which  marked  Trevor's  handiwork.  The  rain  pelted 
against  their  faces  and  streamed  from  their  slickers. 

The  breakwater  lay  like  a  reef,  and  over  it  the 
sea  was  pounding  in  mighty  wrath.  High  into  the 
air  the  waters  rose,  only  to  disappear  upon  the  bosom 
of  the  gale.  They  engulfed  the  structure  bodily, 
they  raced  along  it  with  thunderous  detonations, 
bursting  in  a  lather  of  rage.  Out  beyond,  the  billows 
appeared  to  be  sheared  flat  by  the  force  of  the  wind, 
yet  that  ceaseless  upheaval  of  spume  showed  that 
the  ocean  was  in  furious  tumult.  For  moments  at  a 
time  the  whole  scene  was  blotted  out  by  the  scud, 
then  the  curtain  would  tear  asunder  and  the  wild 
scene  would  leap  up  again  before  their  eyes. 

Eliza  screamed  a  question  at  her  companion,  but  he 
did  not  seem  to  hear ;  his  eyes  roved  back  and  forth 
along  that  lace-white  ridge  of  rock  on  the  weakness 
of  which  depended  his  salvation.  She  had  never 
seen  him  so  fierce,  so  hawklike,  so  impassive.  The 
gusts  shook  him,  his  garments  slatted  viciously,  every 
rag  beneath  his  outer  covering  was  sodden,  yet  he 
continued  to  face  the  tempest  as  indifferently  as  he 
had  faced  it  since  the  dawn.  The  girl  thrilled  at 
thought  of  the  issue  these  mighty  forces  were  fight 
ing  out  before  her  eyes,  and  of  what  it  meant  to  the 
man  beside  her.  His  interests  became  hers;  she 
shared  his  painful  excitement.  Her  warm  flesh 
chilled  as  the  moisture  embraced  her  limbs;  but  her 
heart  was  light,  for  O' Neil's  strong  arm  encircled  her, 
and  her  body  lay  against  his. 

After  a  long  time  he  spoke.  "See!  It's  coming 
up!"  he  said. 

She  felt  no  increase  in  the  wind,  but  she  noted 
that  particles  of  sand  and  tiny  pebbles  from  the 

240 


THE   TEMPEST'S    FRUIT 

beach  were  flying  with  the  salt  raindrops.  Her 
muscles  began  to  tremble  from  the  constant  effort 
at  resistance,  and  she  was  relieved  when  Murray 
looked  about  for  a  place  of  refuge.  She  pointed  to  a 
pile  of  bridge  timbers,  but  he  shook  his  head. 

"They'll  go  flying  if  this  keeps  up."  He  dragged 
her  into  the  shelter  of  a  little  knoll.  Here  the  blasts 
struck  them  with  diminished  force,  the  roaring  in 
their  ears  grew  less,  and  the  labor  of  breathing  was 
easier. 

Rousing  himself  from  his  thoughts,  the  man  said, 
gently : 

* '  Poor  kid !     You  must  be  cold. ' ' 

"I'm  freezing.  But — please  don't  send  me  back. ' ' 
The  face  that  met  his  was  supplicating ;  the  eyes  were 
bluer  than  a  spring  day.  He  patted  her  dripping 
shoulder. 

"Not  until  you're  ready." 

"This  is  grander  than  our  trip  past  the  glacier. 
That  was  merely  dangerous,  but  this — means  some 
thing." 

There  may  be  danger  here  if  we  expose  ourselves. 
Look  at  that!" 

High  up  beyond  reach  of  the  surf  a  dory  had  been 
dragged  and  left  bottom  up.  Under  this  the  wind 
found  a  fingerhold  and  sent  it  flying.  Over  and 
over  it  rolled,  until  a  stronger  gust  caught  it  and  sent 
it  in  huge  leaps,  end  over  end.  It  brought  up 
against  the  timber  pile  with  a  crash,  and  was  held 
there  as  if  by  a  mighty  suction.  Then  the  beams 
began  to  tremble  and  lift.  The  pile  was  disintegrated 
bit  by  bit,  although  it  would  have  required  many 
hands  to  move  any  one  of  its  parts. 

Even  where  the  man  and  the  woman  crouched 

241 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

the  wind  harried  them  like  a  hound  pack,  but  by 
clinging  to  the  branches  of  a  gnarled  juniper  bush 
they  held  their  position  and  let  the  spray  whine 
over  their  heads. 

"Farther  west  I've  seen  houses  chained  to  the 
earth  with  ships'  cables,"  he  shouted  in  her  ear. 
"To  think  of  building  a  harbor  in  a  place  like  this!" 

"I  prayed  for  you  last  night.  I  prayed  for  the 
wind  to  come,"  said  the  girl,  after  a  time. 

O'Neil  looked  at  her,  curiously  startled,  then  he 
looked  out  at  the  sea  once  more.  All  in  a  moment 
he  realized  that  Eliza  was  beautiful  and  that  she  had 
a  heart.  It  seemed  wonderful  that  she  should  be 
interested  in  his  fortunes.  He  was  a  lonely  man; 
beneath  his  open  friendliness  lay  a  deep  reserve. 
A  curiously  warm  feeling  of  gratitude  flamed  through 
him  now,  and  he  silently  blessed  her  for  bearing  him 
company  in  the  deciding  hour  of  his  life. 

Noon  came,  and  still  the  two  crouched  in  their 
half  -  shelter,  drenched,  chilled,  stiff  with  exposure, 
watching  Kyak  Bay  lash  itself  into  a  boiling  smoth 
er.  The  light  grew  dim,  night  was  settling;  the  air 
seemed  full  of  screaming  furies.  Then  O'Neil 
noticed  bits  of  driftwood  racing  in  upon  the  bil 
lows,  and  he  rose  with  a  loud  cry. 

"It's  breaking  up!"  he  shouted.  "It's  breaking 
up!" 

Eliza  lifted  herself  and  clung  to  him,  but  she 
could  see  nothing  except  a  misty  confusion.  In  a 
few  moments  the  flotsam  came  thicker.  Splintered 
piling,  huge  square-hewn  timbers  with  fragments  of 
twisted  iron  or  broken  bolts  came  floating  into  sight. 
A  confusion  of  wreckage  began  to  clutter  the  shore, 
and  into  it  the  sea  churned. 

242 


THE   TEMPEST'S    FRUIT 

The  spindrift  tore  asunder  at  length,  and  the 
watchers  caught  a  brief  glimpse  of  the  tumbling 
ocean.  The  breakwater  was  gone.  Over  the  place 
where  it  had  stood  the  billows  raced  unhindered. 

"Poor  Trevor!"  said  O'Neil.  "Poor  Trevor!  He 
did  his  best,  but  he  didn't  know."  He  looked  down 
to  find  Eliza  crying.  "What's  this?  I've  kept  you 
here  too  long!" 

"No,  no!  I'm  just  glad — so  glad.  Don't  you 
understand?" 

"I'll  take  you  back.     I  must  get  ready  to  leave." 

"Leave?     Where—" 

"For  New  York!  I've  made  my  fight,  and  I've 
won."  His  eyes  kindled  feverishly.  "I've  won  in 
spite  of  them  all.  I  hold  the  key  to  a  kingdom.  It's 
mine — mine!  I  hold  the  gateway  to  an  empire, 
and  those  who  pass  through  must  pay."  The  girl 
had  never  seen  such  fierce  triumph  in  a  face.  "I 
saw  it  in  a  dream,  only  it  was  more  than  a  dream." 
The  wind  snatched  O'Neil's  words  from  his  lips, 
but  he  ran  on:  "I  saw  a  deserted  fishing-village 
become  a  thriving  city.  I  saw  the  glaciers  part  to 
let  pass  a  great  traffic  in  men  and  merchandise.  I 
saw  the  unpeopled  north  grow  into  a  land  of  homes, 
of  farms,  of  mining-camps,  where  people  lived  and 
bred  children.  I  heard  the  mountain  passes  echo  to 
steam  whistles  and  the  whir  of  flying  wheels.  It 
was  a  wonderful  vision  that  I  saw,  but  my  eyes  were 
true.  They  called  me  a  fool,  and  it  took  the  sea  and 
the  hurricane  to  show  them  I  was  right."  He 
paused,  ashamed  of  his  outburst,  and,  taking  the 
girl's  hand  in  his,  went  stumbling  ahead  of  the 
storm. 

Their  limbs  were  cramped,  their  teeth  chattered, 
243 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

they  wallowed  through  mire,  and  mere  than  once 
they  fell.  Nearing  Trevor's  house,  they  saw  what  the 
storm  had  done.  Kyak  was  nearly  razed.  Roofs 
had  been  ripped  off,  chimneys  were  down,  glass 
was  out.  None  but  the  most  substantial  log  cabins 
had  withstood  the  assault,  and  men  were  busied 
in  various  quarters  trying  to  repair  the  damage. 

They  found  Natalie  beside  herself  with  anxiety 
for  their  safety,  and  an  hour  later  Trevor  came  in, 
soaked  to  the  skin.  He  was  very  tired,  and  his  face 
was  haggard. 

"Well!  She  went  out!"  he  said.  "I  saw  a  mil 
lion  dollars  swallowed  up  in  that  sea." 

They  tried  to  comfort  him,  but  the  collapse  of 
of  his  work  had  left  him  dazed. 

"God!  I  didn't  think  it  could  blow  like  this— 
and  it  isn't  over  yet.  The  town  is  flat." 

"I'm  sorry.  You  understand  I  sympathize?"  said 
Murray;  and  the  engineer  nodded. 

"You  told  me  it  blew  here,  and  I  thought  I  knew 
what  you  meant,  but  nothing  could  withstand  those 
rollers." 

"Nothing." 

"You'll  go  East  and  see  our  people,  I  suppose?" 

"At  once." 

"Tell  them  what  you  saw.  They'll  never  under 
stand  from  my  reports.  They're  good  people.  If 
there's  anything  I  can  do — " 

O'Neil  took  his  hand  warmly. 

Two  days  later  Murray  bade  the  girls  good-by, 
and  left,  traveling  light.  They  remained  in  Kyak 
so  that  Eliza  might  complete  her  investigations. 

Of  all  those  who  suffered  by  the  storm  Curtis 

244 


THE    TEMPEST'S    FRUIT 

Gordon  took  his  misfortune  hardest.  This  had  been 
a  black  season  for  him,  indeed.  Beginning  with 
O' Neil's  rivalry,  everything  had  gone  against  him. 
He  had  dropped  his  coal  interests  at  Kyak  in  favor 
of  the  copper -mine,  because  they  failed  to  yield 
quick  profits.  Then  he  had  learned  that  the  mine 
was  valueless,  and  realized  that  it  could  not  serve 
him  much  longer  as  a  means  of  raising  funds.  Still, 
he  had  trusted  that  by  taking  a  vigorous  part  in  the 
railroad  struggle  he  would  be  able  either  to  recoup 
his  fortunes  or  at  least  to  effect  a  compromise  in  the 
shadow  of  which  his  fiasco  at  Hope  would  be  for 
gotten.  As  yet  the  truth  about  Hope  Consolidated 
was  not  generally  known  to  his  stock-holders,  but  a 
certain  restlessness  among  them  had  become  trouble 
some.  The  stream  of  money  had  diminished  alarm 
ingly,  and  it  was  largely  because  of  this  that  he  had 
bought  the  McDermott  right-of-way  and  moved  to 
Kyak.  And  now,  just  as  he  had  his  affairs  in  shape 
for  another  and  a  greater  campaign  of  stock-flota 
tion,  the  storm  had  come  to  ruin  him. 

The  bitterest  element  in  his  defeat  was  the  realiza 
tion  that  O'Neil,  who  had  bested  him  at  every  turn, 
was  destined  to  profit  by  the  very  blow  which  crushed 
him.  Defeat  at  the  hands  of  the  Copper  Trust  he 
would  have  accepted  with  a  fairly  good  grace;  but 
the  mere  thought  that  Murray  O'Neil,  whom  he 
considered  in  every  way  his  inferior,  had  gained  the 
upper  hand  was  intolerable.  It  was  in  keeping 
with  Gordon's  character  that  instead  of  blaming 
his  own  judgment  he  became  furiously  angry  at 
the  Trust  for  the  mistake  of  its  engineers,  and  held 
them  responsible  for  his  desperate  situation.  That 
it  was  truly  desperate  he  very  soon  realized,  since 

245 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

disaster  to  his  railroad  project  meant  that  his 
stock-holders  would  be  around  his  ears  like  a  swarm 
of  hornets,  and  once  they  understood  the  true  state 
of  affairs  at  Hope  the  complete  collapse  of  his  for 
tunes  would  surely  follow. 

During  the  days  succeeding  the  storm  he  scarcely 
knew  where  to  turn,  so  harassed  was  he ;  yet  he  never 
for  a  moment  wavered  ir  his  resolve  to  make  O'Neil 
pay  for  his  interference  and  to  exact  a  reckoning 
from  Gloria  Gerard. 

Natalie's  presence  in  Kyak  confirmed  his  belief 
that  O'Neil  was  interested  in  her,  and  he  began  to 
plan  a  stroke  by  which  he  could  take  revenge  upon 
all  three.  It  did  not  promise  in  any  way  to  help 
him  out  of  his  financial  straits,  but  at  least  it  would 
give  him  a  certain  satisfaction. 

He  sent  word  to  the  girl  that  he  would  like  to 
see  her. 


XVII 

HOW   THE   PRINCE    BECAME   A   MAN 

ORDON  found  his  erstwhile  ward  greatly 
improved  by  her  recent  life.  She  was  brown, 
vigorous,  healthy;  her  physical  charms  quickened 
his  pulses. 

"You  must  have  a  very  good  reason  for  coming 
to  see  me,"  she  began.  "I  don't  flatter  myself  that 
it  is  from  affection." 

"There  you  wrong  me,"  he  assured  her,  with  the 
warm  earnestness  he  so  easily  assumed.  "I  have 
always  regarded  you  as  a  daughter." 

"I  have  no  faith  in  you." 

"Exactly,  and  the  knowledge  distresses  me.  You 
and  Gloria  were  a  large  part  of  my  life;  I  can't  bear 
to  lose  you.  I  hope — and  I  believe — that  her 
regard  for  me  has  changed  no  more  than  mine  for 
her.  It  remains  for  me  to  regain  yours." 

''That  is  impossible.     You  had  the  chance — " 

"My  dear,  you  can't  know  my  reasons  for  acting 
as  I  did  at  Omar.  But  those  reasons  no  longer 
exist." 

"Just  what — do  you  mean  by  that?"  stammered 
Natalie. 

"I  mean  what  I  say.  I'm  ready  to  marry  your 
mother." 

"When?" 

247 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"At  once.  You  shall  plead  my  cause  for  me. 
You  shall  add  your  voice  to  mine — " 

"That  isn't  necessary.  You  know  mother  is  only 
waiting  for  you.  It  means  so  much  to  her  that  she 
couldn't  refuse." 

"Doesn't  it  mean  anything  to  you?" 

Natalie  nodded.  "It  means  more  to  me  than  to 
any  one  else,  perhaps.  I  have  been  carrying  a  great 
burden,  almost  more  than  I  can  bear.  Sometimes 
I've  wished  I  were  a  man — for  just  long  enough  to 
make  you  pay.  Oh  yes,"  she  continued,  as  he 
started  to  protest.  "Don't  let  us  begin  this  new 
life  with  any  false  conceptions;  you  may  as  well 
know  that  I  shall  always  hate  you.  We  shall  see 
very  little  of  each  other." 

"Nonsense!  I  can't  let  you  feel  like  that.  I 
sha'n't  rest  until  I  win  back  your  love  and  con 
fidence." 

She  eyed  him  searchingly  for  a  moment,  then 
opened  her  lips  to  speak,  but  closed  them. 

' '  Well  ?"  he  prompted  her.  "  Let  us  be  frank  with 
each  other." 

"I'm  merely  wondering  how  greatly  your  decision 
has  been  influenced  by  the  storm  and  the  fight  at 
the  railroad  crossing.  I  understand  how  you  feel 
toward  Mr.  O'Neil,  and  I  know  that  he  means  to 
crush  you." 

"  Oh !"     Gordon's  face  lighted. 

"Yes!  He  has  never  said  so,  but  I  can  feel  it. 
I  wonder  if  you  have  snatched  us  up  in  your  ex 
tremity  as  a  defense." 

"Ridiculous!  Your  suspicions  are  insulting.  I 
have  nothing  to  fear  from  him,  for  he  is  broken,  his 
credit  is  gone,  he  is  in  desperate  straits." 

248 


THE   PRINCE   BECOMES  A  MAN 

"Are  you  in  any  better  condition?  How  long 
can  you  fool  your  people  with  that  pretense  of  a 
mine?" 

Gordon  flushed,  but  affected  scorn.  "So!  Have 
you  and  Gloria  begun  to  balance  my  wealth  against 
my  love?  If  so — " 

"You  know  she  would  marry  you  if  you  were 
penniless." 

"I  hope  so — and,  indeed,  I  can't  believe  her  mer 
cenary.  Well,  I  shall  say  good-by  to  Kyak,  without 
idle  regret,  and  we  three  shall  return  to  Hope,  where 
I  can  attack  my  problems  with  fresh  courage.  I 
can  well  afford  my  loss  here,  if  by  doing  so  I  gain 
the  woman  of  my  desires." 

"You  want  me  to  go  with  you?" 

"Of  course.  You  can't  stay  in  Omar,  knowing 
what  you  do  about  O'Neil.  Remember,  I  shall  be 
in  the  position  of  a  father  to  you." 

"Very  well.  It  is  the  least  I  can  do.  Miss 
Appleton  and  I  are  returning  to  Omar  in  a  few  days. 
Will  you  go  with  us?" 

"I  shall  be  delighted,  my  dear."  He  smiled  upon 
her  in  his  most  fatherly  fashion,  but  she  was  far 
from  feeling  the  assurance  he  meant  to  convey. 

The  eighteen-hour  train  from  Chicago  bore  Mur 
ray  O'Neil  into  New  York  on  time,  and  he  hastened 
directly  to  the  Holland  House,  where  the  clerk 
greeted  him  as  if  he  had  run  in  from  Yonkers  instead 
of  from  the  wilderness  of  the  far  northwest.  His 
arrival  was  always  the  forerunner  of  great  prosper 
ity  for  the  bell-boys,  and  there  was  the  customary 
struggle  for  his  baggage. 

An  hour  later,  having  bathed  and  changed  his 
17  249 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

linen,  he  was  whizzing  toward  lower  Broadway,  with 
the  roar  of  the  Subway  in  his  ears.  New  York  looked 
very  good  to  O'Neil,  for  this  time  he  came  not  as  a 
suppliant,  but  as  a  conqueror,  and  a  deep  content 
ment  rested  in  his  heart.  More  than  once  during 
the  last  two  years  he  had  made  this  flying  trip 
across  an  ocean  and  a  continent,  but  heretofore  he 
had  been  burdened  with  worries  and  responsibilities. 
Always  he  had  needed  to  gather  his  wits  for  some 
supreme  effort;  always  there  had  been  the  urgent 
necessity  of  raising  money.  As  the  S.  R.  &  N.  had 
grown  his  obligations  had  increased;  and,  while  he 
had  never  returned  empty-handed,  no  one  but  he 
knew  at  what  cost  of  time  and  strength  he  had 
succeeded  in  financing  his  venture.  Invariably  he 
had  left  New  York  mentally  and  physically  ex 
hausted,  and  his  days  in  the  open  had  barely  served 
to  replenish  his  store  of  nervous  energy  for  the  next 
campaign. 

As  he  looked  back  upon  it  all  he  was  amazed  at 
his  daring  in  attempting  to  finance  a  railroad  out  of 
his  own  pocket.  But  he  had  won,  and  the  Trust 
had  met  with  a  sharp  reverse  in  attempting  to  beat 
him  at  his  own  game.  He  held  the  winning  card,  and 
he  looked  out  upon  the  world  through  eyes  which 
were  strained  and  weary,  but  complacent. 

Mr.  Herman  Heidlemann  was  expecting  him. 

"You  have  the  most  confident  way  of  arranging 
appointments  from  the  other  side  of  the  world,"  he 
began,  as  O'Neil  entered  his  office.  "Steamships 
and  railroads  appear  to  be  your  obedient  servants." 

"Not  always.  I  find  railroads  very  troublesome 
at  times." 

"Well,  you're  on  time  to  the  minute,"  said 

250 


THE   PRINCE   BECOMES  A  MAN 

Heidlemann.  "Now  tell  me  about  Kyak.  Trevor 
cables  that  you  were  there  during  the  storm  which 
ruined  us."  The  head  of  the  copper  syndicate  did 
not  look  like  a  man  facing  ruin;  in  fact,  he  seemed 
more  curious  to  hear  of  the  physical  phenomena 
of  that  hurricane  than  of  its  effect  upon  his 
fortunes. 

"Kyak  was  a  great  mistake,"  he  admitted,  when 
O'Neil  had  given  him  the  particulars  he  asked  for. 
"We're  all  agreed  on  that  point.  Some  of  our 
associates  feel  that  the  whole  Alaskan  enterprise  has 
been  a  mistake — mines  and  all." 

"Your  mines  are  as  good  as  they  ever  were,  but 
Kyak  is  a  long  way  from  Wall  Street,  and  you  relied 
too  much  upon  other  people's  judgment." 

"We  have  to  rely  upon  our  experts." 

"Of  course.  But  that  country  must  have  a  rail 
road." 

'  *  Must  ?"  Heidlemann  lifted  his  brows.  ' '  It  has 
done  very  well  without  one  so  far.  Our  friends  call 
us  crazy  for  trying  to  build  one,  and  our  enemies 
call  us  thieves." 

"You  can't  afford  to  give  up.*' 

"No.  There's  an  element  of  pride  in  the  matter, 
and  I  really  believe  the  country  does  need  trans 
portation." 

"You  can't  understand  how  badly  it  needs  it." 

"Yet  it's  a  heavy  load  to  carry,"  said  Heidlemann, 
with  conviction,  ' '  for  a  road  will  lose  money  for  many 
years.  We  were  willing  to  wait  until  the  agriculture 
and  the  mining  developed,  even  though  the  profit 
came  only  to  our  children;  but — we  have  been  mis 
understood,  abused  by  the  press  and  the  public. 
Even  Congress  is  down  on  us.  However,  I  suppose 

251 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

you  came  to  tell  me  once  more  that  Omar  is  the 
gateway  and  that  we  need  it." 

O'Neil  smiled.  "That's  hardly  necessary  now, 
is  it?  I  own  every  inch  of  water-front  at  that  point, 
and  there's  no  other  harbor.  My  track  will  be  kid 
to  the  glaciers  by  the  time  snow  flies." 

"Trevor  reports  that  a  bridge  is  possible,  al 
though  expensive." 

"It  will  cost  two  million  dollars." 

"I  don't  see  how  it  can  be  built  to  withstand  the 
ice." 

"I'll  guarantee  to  build  it  so  it  will  hold." 

"What  is  your  proposition?"  asked  Heidlemann. 

"I'll  sell  the  S.  R.  &  N.  for  five  million  dollars 
and  contract  to  complete  the  road  within  two  years 
on  a  ten-per-cent.  commission." 

"It  has  cost  you  about  three  million  dollars,  I 
believe.  That  would  leave  you  a  handsome  profit." 

"One  million  for  me,  one  million  for  my  asso 
ciates." 

"What  will  the  remaining  hundred  miles  cost?" 

"About  ten  millions.  That  will  give  me  another 
million  profit  as  contractor.  My  iorce  and  equip 
ment  is  on  the  ground.  I  can  save  you  money  and  a 
year's  time." 

Mr.  Heidlemann  drummed  upon  the  top  of  his 
desk  for  a  moment. 

' '  You're  a  high-priced  man,  O'Neil, ' '  he  said,  finally. 

"You've  had  experience  with  the  other  kind." 

"Counting  the  money  we've  already  sunk,  the  road 
would  stand  us  about  twenty  million  dollars  com 
pleted." 

"It  will  cost  thirty  to  build  from  Cortez,  and  take 
two  years  longer." 

252 


THE   PRINCE   BECOMES  A  MAN 

Mr.  Heidlemann  seemed  to  consider  this  for  a 
moment.  "We've  had  this  matter  before  us  almost 
constantly  since  the  report  of  the  storm,"  he  said, 
at  length,  "and  after  deliberation  our  directors  have 
voted  to  do  nothing  just  yet." 

O'Neil  opened  his  eyes  in  amazement. 

"I  don't  understand." 

"It's  this  way.  Our  engineers  first  recommended 
Cortez  as  a  starting-point,  and  we  spent  a  fortune 
there.  Then  you  attacked  the  other  route,  and  we 
sent  Trevor  up  to  find  if  you  were  right  and  we  were 
wrong.  He  recommended  the  Salmon  River  valley, 
and  told  us  he  could  build  a  breakwater  at  Kyak. 
You  know  the  result.  We  relied  upon  him,  for  he 
seemed  to  be  the  best  man  in  the  country,  but  as  a 
matter  of  precaution  we  later  sent  other  engineers. 
Their  reports  came  in  not  three  months  ago,  and, 
while  all  seemed  confident  that  the  breakwater 
could  be  built,  none  of  them  were  certain  about  the 
bridge.  One,  in  fact,  condemned  it  absolutely. 
Now  on  the  heels  of  their  statements  comes  the 
news  that  the  very  work  they  united  in  declaring 
feasible  has  been  undone.  Naturally,  we  don't  know 
where  we  are  or  whom  to  believe." 

"They  simply  didn't  know  the  conditions  at 
Kyak,"  argued  O'Neil,  "and  they  evidently  haven't 
studied  the  bridge  as  I  have.  But  you'll  have  to  go 
at  the  breakwater  again  or  build  in  from  Cortez 
or  give  up." 

"No,  we  have  decided  to  mark  time  until  that 
crossing  is  proved  feasible.  Understand,  I  voice  the 
sentiment  of  the  majority ." 

"If  I  build  that  bridge  you  may  find  it  more 
difficult  to  buy  me  out,"  said  O'Neil,  quietly. 

253 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

" We'll  have  to  take  our  medicine,"  Mr.  Heidle- 
mann  replied,  without  heat.  "We  cannot  afford  an 
other  mistake." 

"This  is  definite?" 

^Oh,  absolutely!     We're  going  slow  for  a  time." 

A  blow  in  the  face  could  not  have  affected  O'Neil 
more  disagreeably  than  this  statement.  Fortune 
had  seemed  within  his  grasp  when  he  entered  the 
room ;  now  ruin  was  more  imminent  than  it  had  ever 
been  before.  The  ground  seemed  to  be  slipping 
from  beneath  his  feet;  he  discovered  that  he  was 
dizzy.  He  felt  himself  utterly  incapable  of  raising 
the  two  million  dollars  necessary  to  carry  his  road 
to  a  point  where  the  Trust  would  consider  a  pur 
chase,  yet  to  fail  meant  the  loss  of  all  he  had  put  in. 
He  knew  also  that  these  men  would  never  recede 
from  a  position  once  taken. 

"Hasn't  this  public  clamor  had  something  to  do 
with  your  determination?"  he  asked. 

"A  great  deal.  We  had  the  best  intentions  when 
we  started — we  still  have — but  it's  time  to  let  the 
general  sentiment  cool.  We  thought  we  were  doing 
a  fine  thing  for  the  country  in  opening  Alaska,  but 
it  seems  we're  regarded  as  thieves  and  grafters. 
One  gets  tired  of  abuse  after  a  while." 

"Will  you  take  an  option  on  the  S.  R.  &  N. 
conditional  upon  the  building  of  the  bridge?" 

"We  couldn't  very  well  do  that.  Remember  you 
are  our  rival."  Heidlemann  smiled  in  his  recogni 
tion  of  the  fact  that  the  rivalry  was  friendly.  "To 
do  so  would  fan  excitement  at  Washington  to  a 
white  heat.  We'd  then  be  in  the  position  they  now 
accuse  us  of  occupying,  and  that  would  have  a 
serious  bearing  upon  the  coal  situation.  No,  we 

254 


THE   PRINCE   BECOMES  A  MAN 

can't  help  you,  O'Neil,  but  rest  assured  we  won't 
do  anything  to  hinder  you.  You  have  treated  us 
fairly;  we  will  reciprocate.  Once  you  have  built 
your  bridge  we  can  discuss  a  purchase  and  the 
abandonment  of  our  original  enterprise,  but  mean 
while  we  must  proceed  cautiously.  It  is  unfortunate 
for  us  all." 

"Especially  for  me." 

"You  need  money  badly,  don't  you?" 

"I'm  worse  than  broke,"  O'Neil  admitted. 

"I'd  really  be  sorry  to  take  over  the  wreck  of 
your  enterprise,"  Heidlemann  said,  earnestly,  "for 
you  have  made  a  good  fight,  and  your  ideas  were 
better  than  ours.  I'd  much  prefer  to  pay  your 
price  than  to  profit  by  your  misfortune.  Needless 
to  say  we  don't  feel  that  way  about  Gordon." 

"There  would  be  no  uncertainty  about  the  bridge 
if  I  had  the  money.  With  your  means  I  could 
build  a  road  to  the  moon,  and  double-track  it." 

Although  Murray  felt  that  further  effort  was 
useless,  he  continued  to  argue  the  matter  from  various 
angles,  hoping  against  hope  to  sway  Heidlemann's 
decision.  But  he  gave  up  at  last.  Out  in  the 
marble  hall  wnich  led  to  the  elevators  he  discovered 
that  all  his  vigor  of  an  hour  ago  had  passed.  The 
spring  was  out  of  his  limbs;  he  walked  slowly,  like 
an  old  man.  A  glimpse  of  his  image  in  the  mirrors 
of  the  car  as  he  shot  downward  showed  him  a  face 
grave  and  haggard.  The  crowds  jostled  him,  but  he 
was  hardly  conscious  of  them.  The  knowledge  that 
his  hardest  fight  was  yet  to  come  filled  him  with 
sickening  apprehension.  He  was  like  a  runner  who 
toes  the  mark  for  a  final  heat  knowing  himself  to  be 
upon  the  verge  of  collapse. 

255 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

The  magnitude  of  the  deal  narrowed  his  field  of 
operations  alarmingly,  and  he  had  already  learned 
what  a  serious  effect  upon  capital  the  agitation  about 
Alaska  had  produced.  More  than  once  he  had  found 
men  who  were  willing  to  invest  but  feared  the  effect 
of  public  sentiment.  Popular  magazines,  newspa 
pers  like  The  Review,  and  writers  like  Eliza  Apple- 
ton  had  been  largely  to  blame  for  the  wrong.  They 
had  misunderstood  the  problem  and  misinterpreted 
the  spirit  of  commercial  progress.  But,  strangely 
enough,  he  felt  no  bitterness  at  thought  of  Eliza. 
On  the  contrary,  his  heart  softened  in  a  sort  of 
friendly  yearning  for  her  company.  He  would  have 
liked  to  talk  the  matter  over  with  her. 

Looking  the  situation  squarely  in  the  face,  he 
realized  that  he  must  face  a  crash  or  raise  two 
million  dollars  within  the  next  month.  That  meant 
seventy  thousand  dollars  a  day.  It  was  a  man- 
sized  task. 

He  bought  himself  a  cigar  at  the  corner,  hailed  a 
taxicab,  and  was  driven  all  the  way  up  town  to  the 
Holland  House.  Once  there,  he  established  himself 
in  that  corner  of  the  men's  cafe  which  he  always 
frequented. 

The  waiter  who  served  him  lingered  to  say: 

"It's  good  to  see  you  back  in  your  'office'  again. 
You've  been  a  long  time  away,  sir." 

O'Neil  smiled  as  he  left  a  silver  dollar  on  the  tray. 

"It's  good  to  be  back,  Joe,"  he  said.  "This  time 
I  may  not  leave." 


XVIII 

HOW   THE   MAN   BECAME    A   PRINCE   AGAIN 

O'NEIL  had  the  faculty  of  sleeping  well,  in  spite 
of  the  most  tormenting  worries.  He  arose  on 
the  morning  after  his  interview  with  Mr.  Heidle- 
mann,  ready  to  begin  the  struggle  with  all  his  normal 
energy  and  confidence.  But  the  day  brought  him 
only  discouragement.  He  had  a  large  acquaintance, 
the  mention  of  his  name  in  quarters  where  he  was 
not  personally  known  gained  him  respectful  atten 
tion;  but  he  found  himself  working  in  the  shadow 
of  the  Copper  Trust,  and  its  silent  influence  over 
came  his  strongest  arguments.  One  banker  ex 
pressed  the  general  attitude  by  saying: 

"If  the  Heidlemanns  were  not  in  the  field  we 
might  help  you,  but  it  would  be  financial  suicide  to 
oppose  them.'* 

"There's  no  opposition  about  it,"  Murray  assured 
him.  "If  I  build  that  bridge  they'll  buy  us  out." 

At  this  his  hearer  very  naturally  wished  to  know 
why,  if  the  bridge  were  indeed  feasible,  the  Heidle 
manns  delayed  action;  and  O'Neil  had  to  fall  back 
upon  a  recital  of  the  facts,  realizing  perfectly  that 
they  failed  to  carry  conviction. 

No  one,  it  seemed,  cared  to  risk  even  a  semblance 
of  rivalry  with  that  monstrous  aggregation  of  capital, 
for  the  interlacing  of  financial  interests  was  amaz- 

257 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

ingly  intricate,  and  financiers  were  fearful  of  the 
least  misstep.  Everywhere  O'Neil  encountered  the 
same  disheartening  timidity.  His  battle,  it  seemed, 
had  been  lost  before  it  was  begun. 

Days  passed  in  fruitless  endeavors;  evenings 
found  O'Neil  in  his  corner  of  the  Holland  House  Caf6 
racking  his  brain  for  some  way  out  of  his  perplexi 
ties.  Usually  he  was  surrounded  by  friends,  for  he 
continued  to  entertain  in  the  lavish  fashion  for  which 
he  had  gained  a  reputation;  but  sometimes  he  was 
alone,  and  then  his  solitude  became  more  oppressive 
than  it  had  ever  been  even  in  the  farthest  wastes 
of  the  northland.  He  was  made  to  feel  his  respon 
sibility  with  dreadful  keenness,  for  his  associates  were 
in  a  panic  and  bombarded  him  with  daily  inquiries, 
vexatious  and  hard  to  answer.  He  had  hoped  that 
in  this  extremity  they  might  give  him  some  practical 
help,  and  they  did  make  a  few  half-hearted  attempts, 
only  to  meet  the  same  discouragements  as  he.  At 
last  they  left  him  to  carry  the  burden  alone. 

A  week,  two  weeks  went  by.  He  was  in  constant 
cable  communication  with  Omar,  but  not  even  the 
faithful  Dr.  Gray  knew  the  dire  straits  in  which  his 
chief  was  struggling.  Work  on  the  S.  R.  &  N.  was 
going  forward  as  usual.  The  organization  was  run 
ning  at  its  highest  efficiency:  rails  were  being  laid; 
gangs  of  rock- workers  were  preparing  the  grade  be 
yond  the  glaciers.  Yet  every  day  that  passed, 
every  pay-check  drawn  brought  ruin  closer.  Never 
theless,  O'Neil  continued  to  joke  and  chat  with  the 
men  who  came  to  his  table  in  the  cafe  and  kept  his 
business  appointments  with  his  customary  cheerful 
ness.  The  waiters  who  attended  him  rejoiced  in  his 
usual  princely  tips. 

258 


THE    MAN    A    PRINCE   AGAIN 

One  evening  as  he  ran  through  his  mail  he  found  a 
letter  in  a  woman's  handwriting  and,  glancing  at 
the  signature,  started.  It  was  signed  "Gloria 
Gordon."  Briefly  it  apprised  him  of  her  marriage 
and  of  her  and  Natalie's  return  to  Hope.  Gloria 
thanked  him  perfunctorily  for  his  many  kindnesses, 
but  she  neither  expressed  nor  implied  an  invitation 
for  him  to  visit  them.  He  smiled  a  little  grimly — 
already  her  loyalty  had  veered  to  Gordon's  side,  and 
Natalie  no  doubt  shared  her  feeling.  Well,  it  was 
but  natural,  perhaps.  It  would  be  unreasonable  to 
expect  them  to  sacrifice  their  desires,  and  what  they 
now  seemed  to  consider  their  interests,  to  a  business 
quarrel  they  could  hardly  be  expected  to  under 
stand.  He  could  not  help  feeling  hurt  that  the 
women  should  so  readily  exchange  his  friendship  for 
the  protection  of  his  bitterest  enemy,  but — they  were 
helpless  and  he  had  helped  them;  let  it  rest  at  that. 
He  was  really  troubled,  however,  that  they  had  been 
so  easily  deceived.  If  they  had  only  waited!  If  he 
had  only  been  able  to  advise  them!  For  Gordon's 
intention  was  plain. 

He  was  aroused  from  his  train  of  thought  by  a 
stranger  whom  he  found  standing  beside  his  table 
and  looking  down  at  him  with  wavering  eye. 

"Misser  O'Neil,  ain't  it?"  the  fellow  inquired. 
"Sure!  Thought  I  knew  you.  I'm  Bulker,  of  the 
old  North  Pass.  Remember  me?" 

Mr.  Bulker  had  been  imbibing  freely.  He  showed 
evidences  of  a  protracted  spree  not  only  in  his 
speech,  but  in  the  trembling  hand  which  he  extended. 
His  eyes  were  bloodshot,  and  his  good-natured  face 
was  purple. 

O'Neil  greeted  him  pleasantly,  and,  considering 
259 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

himself  enthusiastically  welcomed,  the  new-comer 
sat  down  suddenly,  as  if  some  one  had  tripped  him. 

"Been  washing  you  for  ten  minutes." 

"Washing  me?" 

"No!  Washing  you.  Couldn't  make  you  out — 
eyesight's  getting  bad.  Too  many  bright  lights  in 
this  town.  Ha!  Joke!  Let's  have  a  gill." 

"Thank  you,  no." 

"Must  have  a  little  dram  for  old  time's  sake. 
You're  the  only  one  of  the  North  Pass  crowd  I'll 
drink  with."  Mr.  Bulker  gestured  comprehensively 
at  a  group  of  waiters,  and  Murray  yielded.  "You 
were  my  friend,  O'Neil ;  you  always  treated  me  right. " 

"What  are  you  doing  now?"  asked  O'Neil,  with  the 
interest  he  could  not  refuse  to  any  one  who  had 
ever  worked  with  him.  He  remembered  the  fellow 
perfectly.  He  had  come  on  from  the  East  as  auditor, 
and  had  appeared  to  be  capable,  although  somewhat 
given  to  drink. 

"I'm  a  broker.  Wall  Street's  my  habitat.  Fine 
time  to  buy  stocks,  Misser  O'Neil."  Bulker  as 
sumed  an  expression  of  great  wisdom.  "Like  to 
have  a  tip?  No?  Good!  You're  a  wise  man. 
They  fired  me  from  the  North  Pass.  Wha'd  you 
know  about  that?  Fired  me  for  drinking!  Great 
est  injustice  I  ever  heard  of,  but  I  hit  running,  like  a 
turkey.  That  wasn't  the  reason  they  let  me  go, 
though.  Not  on  your  life!"  He  winked  porten 
tously,  and  strangely  enough  his  eyelid  failed  to  re 
sume  its  normal  position.  It  continued  to  droop, 
giving  the  appearance  of  a  waggish  leer.  "I  knew 
too  mush!  Isn't  healthy  to  know  too  mush,  is  it?" 

"I've  never  had  a  chance  to  find  out,"  smiled 
Murray. 

260 


THE    MAN   A    PRINCE    AGAIN 

"Oh,  don't  be  an  ingenue;  you  savvied  more  than 
anybody  on  the  job.  I'll  admit  I  took  a  nip  now  and 
then,  but  I  never  got  pickled.  Say!  Who  d'you 
s'pose  I  saw  to-day?  Old  man  Illis!" 

O'Neil  became  suddenly  intent.  He  had  been  try 
ing  to  get  in  touch  with  Poultney  Illis  for  more  than 
a  fortnight,  but  his  cables  to  London  had  brought 
no  response. 

' 'When  did  he  arrive?" 

''Just  lately.  He's  a  game  old  rooster,  ain't  he? 
Gee,  he's  sore!" 

"Sore  about  what?" 

Bulker  winked  again,  with  the  same  lack  of 
muscular  control. 

"About  that  North  Pass  deal,  of  course.  He  was 
blackmailed  out  of  a  cold  million.  The  agreement's 
about  up  now,  and  I  figure  he's  over  here  to  renew  it." 

"You're  talking  Greek,"  said  O'Neil;  but  his  eager 
ness  was  manifest. 

"I  s 'posed  you  knew.  The  North  Pass  has  been 
paying  blackmail  to  the  Yukon  steamboat  com 
panies  for  three  years.  When  you  built  the  line  it 
practically  put  'em  out  of  the  Dawson  market, 
understand?" 

"Of  course." 

Now  that  Mr.  Bulker's  mind  was  running  along 
well-worn  grooves,  his  intoxication  became  less 
apparent. 

"Those  Frisco  steamboat  men  got  together  and 
started  a  rate  war  against  the  railroad;  they  hauled 
freight  to  Dawson  by  way  of  St.  Michaels  at  a  loss. 
Of  course  Illis  and  his  crowd  had  to  meet  competition, 
and  it  nearly  broke  'em  the  first  two  seasons.  Gee, 
they  were  the  mad  ones!  Finally  they  fixed  up 

261 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

an  agreement — had  to  or  go  bust — and  of  course  the 
Native  Sons  put  it  over  our  English  cousins.  They 
agreed  to  restore  the  old  rate,  and  each  side  promised 
to  pay  the  other  a  royalty  of  ten  dollars  a  ton  on 
all  the  freight  it  hauled  to  Dawson  and  up-river 
points.  You  can  guess  the  result,  can't  you?  The 
steamboat  companies  let  Illis  haul  all  the  freight  and 
sat  back  on  their  haunches  and  took  their  profit. 
For  every  ton  he  hauled  he  slipped  'em  ten  round 
American  dollars,  stamped  with  the  Goddess  of 
Liberty.  Oh,  it  was  soft!  When  they  had  him 
fairly  tied  up  they  dry-docked  their  steamboats,  to 
save  wear  and  tear.  He  paid  'em  a  thousand  dollars 
a  day  for  three  years.  If  that  ain't  blackmail,  it's 
a  first  cousin  to  it  by  marriage." 

"Didn't  the  Interstate  Commerce  Commission  get 
wise?" 

"Certainly  not.  It  looks  wise,  but  it  never  gets 
wise.  Oh,  believe  me,  Poultney  Illis  is  hopping 
mad.  I  s'pose  he's  over  here  now  to  renew  the 
arrangement  for  another  three  years  on  behalf  of 
his  stock-holders.  Let's  have  a  dram."  Bulker  sat 
back  and  stared  as  through  a  mist  at  his  companion, 
enjoying  the  effect  of  his  disclosure. 

O'Neil  was  indeed  impressed — more  deeply  than 
his  informant  dreamed.  Out  of  the  lips  of  a  drunken 
man  had  come  a  hint  which  set  his  nerves  to  tingling. 
He  knew  Illis  well,  he  knew  the  caliber  of  the  English 
man,  and  a  plan  was  already  leaping  in  his  brain 
whereby  he  might  save  the  S.  R.  &  N. 

It  lacked  an  hour  of  midnight  when  O'Neil  escaped 
from  Bulker  and  reached  his  room.  Once  inside,  he 
seized  the  telephone  and  rang  up  hotel  after  hotel, 
inquiring  for  the  English  capitalist,  but  without 

262 


THE    MAN   A    PRINCE    AGAIN 

result.  After  a  moment's  consideration  he  took  his 
hat  and  gloves  and  went  out.  The  matter  did  not 
permit  of  delay.  Not  only  were  his  own  needs 
imperative,  but  if  Poultney  Illis  had  come  from  Lon 
don  to  confer  with  his  rivals  there  was  little  time 
to  spare. 

Remembering  the  Englishman's  habits,  O'Neil 
turned  up  the  Avenue  to  the  Waldorf,  where  he 
asked  for  the  manager,  whom  he  well  knew. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Illis  is  here,"  he  was  informed,  "but 
he's  registered  under  a  different  name.  No  doubt 
he'll  be  glad  to  see  you,  however." 

A  moment  later  Murray  recognized  the  voice  of 
Illis's  valet  over  the  wire  and  greeted  him  by  name. 
Another  brief  delay,  and  the  capitalist  himself  was 
at  the  'phone. 

"Come  right  up,"  he  said;  and  O'Neil  replaced  the 
receiver  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

Illis  greeted  him  warmly,  for  their  relations  had 
been  close. 

"Lucky  you  found  me,"  he  said.  "I'm  going 
back  on  the  next  sailing." 

"Have  you  signed  up  with  the  Arctic  Navigation 
Company?"  Murray  inquired;  and  the  other  started. 

'  *  Bless  me !     What  do  you  mean  ?" 

His  caller  laughed.  "I  see  you  haven't.  I  don't 
think  you  will,  either,  after  you've  talked  with 
me." 

Without  the  tremor  of  an  eyelash  Illis  exclaimed : 

"My  word!    What  are  you  driving  at ?" 

"That  agreement  over  freight  rates,  of  course." 

The  Briton  eyed  him  for  a  moment,  then  carefully 
closed  the  door  leading  from  his  sitting-room,  and, 
seating  himself,  lit  a  cigar. 

263 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"What  do  you  know  about  that  matter?"  he  asked, 
quietly. 

"About  all  there  is  to  know — enough,  at  least,  to 
appreciate  your  feelings." 

"I  flattered  myself  that  my  affairs  were  private. 
Where  did  you  get  your  information?" 

"I'll  tell  you  if  you  insist,  although  I'd  rather  not. 
There's  no  danger  of  its  becoming  public." 

Illis  showed  his  relief.  "I'm  glad.  You  gave  me 
a  start.  Rotten  fix  for  a  man  to  be  in.  Why,  I'm 
here  under  an  assumed  name!  Fancy!  But — "  he 
waved  his  hand  in  a  gesture  which  showed  his 
acceptance  of  the  inevitable. 

"You  haven't  made  your  new  agreement?" 

"I'm  to  meet  Blum  and  Capron  to-morrow." 

"Why  didn't  you  take  the  S.  R.  &  N.  when  I 
cabled  you  last  month?" 

"I  couldn't.  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  the 
matter?" 

"Don't  you  see?  It's  so  plain  to  me  that  I 
can't  understand  how  you  failed  to  realize  the 
value — the  necessity  of  buying  my  road." 

"Explain,  please." 

"Gladly.  The  North  Pass  &  Yukon  is  paying 
a  fabulous  blackmail  to  the  river-lines  to  escape  a 
ruinous  rate  war." 

"Right!     It's  blackmail,  as  you  say." 

"Under  the  present  agreement  you  handle  the 
Dawson  freight  and  keep  out  of  the  lower  river; 
they  take  the  whole  Tanana  valley  and  lower 
Yukon." 

"Correct." 

"Didn't  it  occur  to  you  that  the  S.  R.  &  N.,  which 
starts  four  hundred  miles  west  of  the  North  Pass 

264 


THE   MAN   A    PRINCE   AGAIN 

and  taps  the  Tanana  valley,  can  be  used  to  put 
the  river  steamers  of  that  section  out  of  busi 
ness?" 

"Let's  have  a  look  at  the  map."  Mr.  Illis  hurried 
into  an  adjoining  room  and  returned  with  a  huge 
chart  which  he  unrolled  upon  the  table.  "To  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  never  looked  at  the  proposition  from 
that  angle.  Our  people  were  afraid  of  those  glaciers 
and  the  competition  of  the  Copper  Trust.  They're 
disgusted,  too,  with  our  treatment." 

"The  Trust  is  eliminated.  Kyak  harbor  is  wiped 
off  the  map,  and  I'm  alone  in  the  field." 

"How  about  this  fellow  Gordon?" 

"He'll  be  broke  in  a  year.  Incidentally,  that's 
my  trouble." 

"But  I'm  told  you  can't  pass  the  glaciers." 

"I  can.  Parker  says  he'll  have  the  bridge  done 
by  spring." 

"Then  I'd  bank  on  it.  I'd  believe  Parker  if  I 
knew  he  was  lying.  If  you  both  agree,  I  haven't 
the  slightest  doubt." 

"This  is  a  bigger  proposition  than  the  North  Pass, 
Mr.  Illis.  You  made  money  out  of  that  road,  but 
this  one  will  make  more."  He  swiftly  outlined  the 
condition  of  affairs,  even  to  the  atfcitude  assumed  by 
the  Heidlemanns;  and  Illis,  knowing  the  speaker  as 
he  did,  had  no  doubt  that  he  was  hearing  the  exact 
truth.  "But  that's  not  all,"  continued  O'Neil. 
"The  S.  R.  &  N.  is  the  club  which  will  hammer 
your  enemies  into  line.  That's  what  I  came  to  see 
you  about.  With  a  voice  in  it  you  can  control  the 
traffic  of  all  central  Alaska  and  force  the  San  Fran 
cisco  crowd  to  treat  the  N.  P.  &  Y.  fairly,  thereby 
saving  half  a  million  a  year." 
\%  265 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"It's  a  big  undertaking.  I'm  not  sure  our  crowd 
could  swing  it." 

"They  don't  have  to.  There's  a  quick  profit  of 
two  million  to  be  had  by  selling  to  the  Trust 
next  spring.  You  can  dictate  your  own  terms  to 
those  blackmailers  to-morrow,  and  then  make  a 
turn-over  in  nine  months.  It  doesn't  matter  who 
owns  the  S.  R.  &  N.  after  it's  completed.  The 
steamboat  men  will  see  their  profits  cut.  As  it  is 
now,  they  can  make  enough  out  of  their  own  territory 
to  haul  freight  into  yours  for  nothing." 

"I  dare  say  you'll  go  to  them  if  we  don't  take 
you  up,  eh?" 

"My  road  has  its  strategic  value.  I  must  have 
help.  If  you  don't  come  to  my  rescue  it  will  mean 
war  with  your  line,  I  dare  say." 

Mr.  Illis  sat  back,  staring  at  the  ceiling  for  a  long 
time.  From  the  street  below  came  the  whir  and 
clatter  of  taxicabs  as  the  midnight  crowd  came  and 
went.  The  city's  nocturnal  life  was  at  its  height; 
men  had  put  aside  the  worries  of  the  day  and  were 
devoting  themselves  to  the  more  serious  and  exhaust 
ing  pastimes  of  relaxation.  Still  the  white-haired 
Briton  weighed  in  his  mind  the  matter  of  millions, 
while  the  fortunes  of  Murray  O'Neil  hung  in  the 
balance. 

"My  people  won't  buy  the  S.  R.  &  N.,"  Illis 
finally  announced.  "But  I'll  put  it  up  to  them." 

' '  I  can't  delay  action  if  there's  a  chance  of  a  refusal. 
I'll  have  to  see  Blum  and  Capron,"  said  O'Neil. 

"I'll  cable  full  details  within  the  hour.  We'll 
have  an  answer  by  to-morrow  night." 

"And  if  they  refuse?"  O'Neil  lit  a  cigar  with 
steady  fingers^ 

266 


THE    MAN    A    PRINCE    AGAIN 

"Oh,  if  they  refuse  I'll  join  you.  We'll  go  over 
the  matter  carefully  in  the  mean  time.  Two  million 
you  said,  didn't  you?" 

''Yes.  There's  two  million  profit  for  you  in  nine 
months."  His  voice  was  husky  and  a  bit  uneven, 
for  he  had  been  under  a  great  strain. 

"Good!  You  don't  know  how  resentful  I  feel 
toward  Blum  and  his  crowd.  I — I'm  downright 
angry:  I  am  that." 

Illis  took  the  hand  which  his  caller  extended,  with 
an  expressionless  face. 

"I'm  glad  I  found  you,"  confessed  O'Neil.  "I 
was  on  my  last  legs.  Herman  Heidlemann  will  pay 
our  price  when  the  last  bridge-bolt  is  driven  home, 
and  he'll  pay  with  a  smile  on  his  face — that's  the 
sort  of  man  he  is." 

"He  won't  pay  if  he  knows  I'm  interested.  We're 
not  exactly  friendly  since  I  sold  out  my  smelter  in 
terests.  But  he  needn't  know — nobody  need  know. ' ' 

Illis  called  his  valet  and  instructed  him  to  rouse 
his  secretary  and  ring  for  some  cable  blanks. 

"I  think  I'll  cable,  too,"  Murray  told  him.  "I 
have  some  'boys'  up  there  who  are  working  in  the 
dark  with  their  teeth  shut.  They're  waiting  for 
the  crash,  and  they'd  like  to  hear  the  good  news." 

His  fingers  shook  as  he  scrawled  the  name  of 
Doctor  Gray,  but  his  eyes  were  bright  and  youth 
was  singing  in  his  heart  once  more. 

"Now  let's  get  down  to  business,"  said  Mr.  Illis. 
"We'll  have  to  talk  fast." 

It  was  growing  light  in  the  east  when  O'Neil 
returned  to  the  Holland  House;  but  he  felt  no  fatigue, 
and  he  laughed  from  the  pure  joy  of  living,  for  his 
dream  seemed  coming  true. 


XIX 

MISS   APPLETON   MAKES   A   SACRIFICE 

TOM  SLATER  came  puffing  up  the  hill  to  the 
Appleton  bungalow,  plumped  himself  into  a 
chair,  and  sighed  deeply. 

"What's  the  matter?  Are  you  played  out?" 
asked  Eliza. 

"No.     I'm  feeling  like  a  colt." 

"Any  news  from  Omar  Khayyam?" 

"Not  a  word." 

Eliza's  brows  drew  together  in  a  worried  frown, 
for  none  of  Murray's  "boys"  had  awaited  tidings 
from  him  with  greater  anxiety  than  she. 

It  had  been  a  trying  month  for  them  all.  Dr. 
Gray,  upon  whom  the  heaviest  responsibility  rested, 
had  aged  visibly  under  the  strain ;  Parker  and  Mellen 
and  McKay  had  likewise  become  worn  and  grave 
as  the  days  passed  and  they  saw  disaster  approach 
ing.  Even  Dan  was  blue;  and  Sheldon,  the  light- 
hearted,  had  begun  to  lose  interest  in  his  commissary 
duties. 

After  the  storm  at  Kyak  there  had  been  a  period 
of  fierce  rejoicing,  which  had  ended  abruptly  with 
the  receipt  of  O'Neil's  curt  cablegram  announcing 
the  attitude  of  the  Trust.  Gloom  had  succeeded 
the  first  surprise,  deepening  to  hopeless  despondency 
through  the  days  that  followed.  Oddly  enough, 

268 


ELIZA    APPLETON'S    SACRIFICE 

Slater  had  been  the  only  one  to  bear  up;  under  ad 
versity  he  blossomed  into  a  peculiar  and  almost 
offensive  cheerfulness.  It  was  characteristic  of  his 
crooked  temperament  that  misfortune  awoke  in  him 
a  lofty  and  unshakable  optimism. 

"You're  great  on  nicknames,  ain't  you?"  he  said 
to  Eliza,  regarding  her  with  his  never-failing  curios 
ity.  "Who's  this  Homer  Keim  you're  always  talk 
ing  about?" 

"He  isn't  any  more:  he  was.  He  was  a  cheerful 
old  Persian  poet." 

1 '  I  thought  he  was  Dutch,  from  the  name.  Well ! 
Murray's  cheerful  too.  Him  and  me  are  alike  in 
that.  I'll  bet  he  isn't  worrying  half  so  much  as 
Doc  and  the  others." 

"You  think  he'll  make  good?" 

"He  never  fails." 

"But — we  can't  hold  on  much  longer.  Dan  says 
that  some  of  the  men  are  getting  uneasy  and  want 
their  money." 

Tom  nodded.  "The  men  are  all  right — Doc  has 
kept  them  paid  up;  it's  the  shift  bosses.  I  say  let 
'em  quit." 

"  Has  it  gone  as  far  as  that?" 

"Somebody  keeps  spreading  the  story  that  we're 
busted  and  that  Murray  has  skipped  out.  More  of 
Gordon's  work,  I  s'pose.  Some  of  the  sore-heads 
are  coming  in  this  evening  to  demand  their 
wages." 

"Can  we  pay  them?" 

"Doc  says  he  dassent;  so  I  s'pose  they'll  quit. 
He  should  have  fired  'em  a  week  ago.  Never  let  a 
man  quit — always  beat  him  to  it.  We  could  hold 
the  rough-necks  for  another  two  weeks  if  it  wasn't 

269 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

for  these  fellows,  but  they'll  go  back  and  start  a 
stampede." 

"How  many  are  there?" 

"About  a  dozen." 

"I  was  afraid  it  was  worse.  There  can't  be  much 
owing  to  them." 

"Oh,  it's  bad  enough!  They've  been  letting  their 
wages  ride,  that's  why  they  got  scared.  We  owe 
them  about  four  thousand  dollars." 

"They  must  be  paid,"  said  Eliza.  "It  will  give 
Mr.  O'Neil  another  two  weeks — a  month,  perhaps." 

"Doc's  got  his  back  up,  and  he's  told  the  cashier 
to  make  'em  wait." 

Eliza  hesitated,  and  flushed  a  little.  "  I  suppose 
it's  none  of  my  business,"  she  said,  "but — couldn't 
you  boys  pay  them  out  of  your  own  salaries?" 

Mr.  Slater  grinned — an  unprecedented  proceeding 
which  lent  his  face  an  altogether  strange  and  unnat 
ural  expression. 

"Salary!  We  ain't  had  any  salary,"  he  said, 
cheerfully — "not  for  months." 

"Dan  has  drawn  his  regularly." 

"Oh,  sure!  But  he  ain't  one  of  us.  He's  an 
outsider." 

"I  see!"  Eliza's  eyes  were  bright  with  a  wistful 
admiration.  "That's  very  nice  of  you  men.  You 
have  a  family,  haven't  you,  Uncle  Tom?" 

"I  have!  Seven  head,  and  they  eat  like  a  herd 
of  stock.  It  looks  like  a  lean  winter  for  'em  if 
Murray  don't  make  a  sale — but  he  will.  That  isn't 
what  I  came  to  see  you  about;  I've  got  my  asking 
•clothes  on,  and  I  want  a  favor." 

"You  shall  have  it,  of  course." 

"  I  want  a  certificate." 

270 


ELIZA   APPLETON'S    SACRIFICE 

"Of  what?" 

4 '111  health.  Nobody  believes  I  had  the  small 
pox." 

"You  didn't." 

"Wh-what?"  Tom's  eyes  opened  wide.  He 
stared  at  the  girl  in  hurt  surprise. 

"It  was  nothing  but  pimples,  Tom." 

"Pimples!"  He  spat  the  word  out  indignantly, 
and  his  round  cheeks  grew  purple.  "I — I  s'pose 
pimples  gave  me  cramps  and  chills  and  backache 
and  palpitation  and  swellings!  Hunh!  I  had  a 
narrow  escape — narrow's  the  word.  It  was  narrower 
than  a  knife-edge!  Anything  I  get  out  of  life  from 
now  on  is  Velvet,'  for  I  was  knocking  at  death's 
door.  The  grave  yawned,  but  I  jumped  it.  It's 
the  first  sick  spell  I  ever  had,  and  I  won't  be  cheated 
out  of  it.  Understand?" 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  smiled  the  girl. 

"You're  a  writer:  write  me  an  affidavit— 

"I  can't  do  that." 

"Then  put  it  in  your  paper.  Put  it  on  the  front 
page,  where  folks  can  see  it." 

"I've  quit  The  Review.  I'm  doing  magazine 
stories." 

"Well,  that  '11  do.  I'm  not  particular  where  it's 
printed  so  long  as — " 

Eliza  shook  her  head.  "You  weren't  really  sick, 
Uncle  Tom." 

At  this  Mr.  Slater  rose  to  his  feet  in  high  dudgeon. 

1 '  Don't  call  me  *  Uncle,  '"he  exclaimed.  ' '  You're 
in  with  the  others." 

"It  wouldn't  be  published  if  I  wrote  it." 

1 '  Then  you  can't  be  much  of  a  writer. "  He  glared 
at  her,  and  slowly,  distinctly,  with  all  the  emphasis 

271 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

at  his  command,  said:  "I  had  smallpox — and  a  dam' 
bad  case,  understand?  I  was  sick.  I  had  miseries 
in  every  joint  and  cartage  of  my  body.  I'm  going 
to  use  a  pick-handle  for  a  cane,  and  anybody  that 
laughs  will  get  a  hickory  massage  that  '11  take  a 
crooked  needle  and  a  pair  of  pinchers  to  fix.  Thank 
God  I've  got  my  strength  back!  You  get  me?" 

"I  do." 

He  snorted  irately  and  turned  to  go,  but  Eliza 
checked  him. 

"What  about  those  shift  bosses?"  she  asked. 

Slater  rolled  his  eyes  balefully.  "Just  let  one  of 
'em  mention  smallpox,"  he  said,  "and  I'll  fill  the 
hospital  till  it  bulges." 

"No,  no!     Are  you  going  to  pay  them?" 

"Certainly  not." 

Eliza  considered  for  a  moment.  "Don't  let  them 
see  Dr.  Gray,"  she  said,  at  length.  "He  has  enough 
to  worry  him.  Meet  them  at  the  train  and  bring 
them  here." 

"What  for?    Tea?" 

"You  boys  have  done  all  you  can;  I  think  it's 
time  Dan  and  I  did  something." 

Tom  stared.  "Are  you  going  to  pay  'em?"  he 
asked,  gruffly. 

"Yes.  Mr.  O'Neil  needs  time.  Dan  and  I  have 
saved  four  thousand  dollars.  I'd  offer  it  to  Dr. 
Gray—" 

"He  wouldn't  take  it." 

"Exactly.     Send  Dan  up  here  when  you  see  him." 

"It  doesn't  seem  exactly  right."  Tom  was  obvi 
ously  embarrassed.  "You  see,  we  sort  of  belong  to 
Murray,  and  you  don't,  but —  He  shook  his  head 
as  if  to  rid  himself  of  unwelcome  emotion.  "Women 

272 


ELIZA   APPLETON'S    SACRIFICE 

are  funny  things!  You're  willing  to  do  that  for  the 
chief,  and  yet  you  won't  write  me  a  little  affidavit!" 
He  grunted  and  went  away,  still  shaking  his  head. 

When  Eliza  explained  her  plan  to  Dan  she  en 
countered  an  opposition  that  shocked  and  hurt  her. 

"I  won't  do  it!"  he  said,  shortly. 

"You— what?" 

"We  can't  build  the  S.  R.  &  N.  on  four  thousand 
dollars,"  he  protested,  bitterly.  "I  need  my  half." 

"You'll  get  it  back  sometime." 

"  Oh !  Will  I  ?  Well,  I  don't  want  it  '  sometime' ; 
I  want  it  now.  Why,  the  idea  is  ridiculous — just 
like  a  woman!" 

"When  was  I  ever  'just  like  a  woman'?"  cried 
Eliza.  "Don't  be  ironic — it  hurts.  Never  mind," 
she  said,  in  answer  to  his  look  of  bewilderment; 
"just  listen.  Mr.  O'Neil  will  succeed.  I'm  sure 
he  will.  But  he  needs  time  —  even  a  week  may 
save  him.  You've  risked  your  life  for  the  road; 
you've  suffered — " 

"That's  different!"  said  Dan,  irritably.  "That 
was  part  of  my  work.  I  earned  my  money,  and  I 
saved  it.  I  need  it  now,  for — you  know — for 
Natalie.  I  can't  afford  to  be  penniless — I  can't 
get  along  without  her.  If  Murray  goes  bust,  where 
will  I  land?  Out  in  the  street!  I've  been  so  lone 
some  since  she  left  that  I  can't  work — I  thought 
you  understood — I  can't  think;  I  can't  sleep,  nor 
eat!—" 

"And  what  about  him?"  demanded  the  girl,  with 
heat.  "Do  you  think  he's  eating  and  sleeping  any 
better  than  you?  He  made  you,  Dan!  He  took  me 
in  and  treated  me  as  a  valued  friend  when  he  knew 
I  was  his  enemy.  He — " 

273 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"Yes,  and  made  you  love  him,  too,"  said  Dan, 
roughly.  "I  can  see  that." 

Eliza  lifted  her  head  and  met  his  eyes  squarely. 

"That's  true!  But  why  not?  Can't  I  love  him? 
Isn't  it  my  privilege  to  help  him  if  I  want  to?  If  I 
had  two  million  dollars  instead  of  two  thousand 
I'd  give  it  to  him,  and — and  I  wouldn't  expect  him 
to  care  for  me,  either.  He'll  never  do  that.  He 
couldn't !  But — oh,  Danny,  I've  been  miserable — 

Dan  felt  a  certain  dryness  of  the  throat  which 
made  speech  oddly  difficult.  "I  don't  see  why  he 
couldn't  care  for  you,"  he  said,  lamely. 

Eliza  shook  her  head  hopelessly.  "I'm  glad  it 
happened,"  she  said — "glad.  In  writing  these  arti 
cles  I've  tried  to  make  him  understood;  I've  tried 
to  put  my  whole  soul  into  them  so  that  the  people 
will  see  that  he  isn't,  wouldn't  be,  a  thief  nor  a 
grafter.  I've  described  him  as  he  is — big,  honorable, 
gentle—" 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  writing  fiction,"  said  her 
brother,  impatiently. 

"I'm  not.  It's  all  true.  I've  cried  over  those 
articles,  Dan.  I've  petted  them,  and  I've  kissed 
his  name — oh,  I've  been  silly!"  She  smiled  at  him 
through  a  sudden  glimmer  of  tears. 

Dan  began  to  wonder  if  his  sister,  in  spite  of  her 
exemplary  conduct  in  the  past,  were  after  all  going 
to  have  hysterics.  Women  were  especially  likely 
to,  he  reflected,  when  they  demanded  the  impossible. 
At  last  he  said,  uncomfortably:  "Gee,  I  thought  I 
was  the  dippy  member  of  the  family!" 

"It's  our  chance  to  help  him,"  she  urged.  "Will 
you — ?" 

"No!  I'm  sorry,  Sis,  but  my  little  bit  wouldn't 
274 


ELIZA   APPLETON'S    SACRIFICE 

mean  anything  to  him;  it  means  everything  to  me. 
Maybe  that's  selfish — I  don't  care.  I'm  as  mad  over 
Natalie  as  you  seem  to  be  over  him.  A  week's 
delay  can't  make  any  difference  now — he  played  and 
lost.  But  I  can't  afford  to  lose.  He'll  make  another 
fortune,  that's  sure — but  do  you  think  I'll  ever  find 
another  Natalie?  No!  Don't  argue,  for  I  won't 
listen." 

He  left  the  house  abruptly,  and  Eliza  went  into 
the  white  bedroom  which  O'Neil  had  fitted  up  for 
her.  From  the  remotest  corner  of  her  lowest  bureau 
drawer  she  drew  a  battered  tin  box,  and,  dividing 
the  money  it  contained  into  two  equal  parts,  placed 
one  in  the  pockets  of  her  mannish  jacket. 

It  was  dark  when  Tom  Slater  arrived,  at  the  head 
of  a  group  of  soiled  workmen  whom  he  ushered 
into  the  parlor  of  the  bungalow. 

"Here's  the  bunch!"  he  announced,  laconically. 

As  the  new-comers  ranged  themselves  uncomfort 
ably  about  the  wall  Dan  Appleton  entered  and  greeted 
them  with  his  customary  breeziness. 

"The  pay-master  is  busy,  and  Doc  Gray  has  a 
surgical  case,"  he  said,  "so  I'll  cash  your  time- 
checks.  Get  me  the  box,  will  you,  Sis?" 

He  had  avoided  Eliza's  eyes  upon  entering,  and 
he  avoided  them  now,  but  the  girl's  throat  was 
aching  as  she  hurried  into  her  bedroom  and  hastily 
replaced  the  rolls  of  greenbacks  she  had  removed 
from  the  tin  box. 

When  he  had  finished  paying  off,  Dan  said, 
brusquely : 

"Now  we  mustn't  have  any  loafing  around  town, 
understand?" 

"We  can't  get  back  to-night,"  said  one  of  the  men. 
275 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"Oh  yes,  you  can.     I  ordered  an  engine  out." 

"We  hear — there's  talk  about  quitting  work," 
another  ventured.  "Where's  O'Neil?" 

"He's  in  the  States  buying  a  steamship,"  answered 
Dan,  unblushingly.  "We  can't  get  stuff  fast  enough 
by  the  regular  boats." 

"Good!  That  sounds  like  business.  We  don't 
want  to  quit." 

"Now  hurry!     Your  parlor-car  is  waiting." 

When  he  and  Eliza  were  alone  he  turned  to  her 
with  a  flush  of  embarrassment.  "Aren't  we  the 
darnedest  fools,  Sis  ?  I  wouldn't  mind  if  we  had  done 
the  chief  any  good,  but  we  haven't."  He  closed  the 
lid  of  the  tin  box,  which  was  nearly  empty  now,  and 
pushed  it  away  from  him,  laughing  mirthlessly. 
"Hide  that  sarcophagus  where  I  can't  see  it,"  he 
commanded.  "It  makes  me  sick." 

Eliza  flung  her  arm  about  his  neck  and  laid  her 
cheek  against  his.  "  Poor  Danny !  You're  a  brick !' ' 

"It's  the  bread-line  for  us,"  he  told  her. 

"Never  mind.  We're  used  to  it  now."  She 
laughed  contentedly  and  snuggled  her  face  closer 
to  his. 

It  was  on  the  following  morning  that  O' Neil's 
cablegram  announcing  the  result  of  his  interview  with 
Illis  reached  Omar.  Dr.  Gray  brought  the  news  to 
the  Appleton  bungalow  while  Dan  and  his  sister 
were  still  at  breakfast.  "Happy  Tom"  came  puff 
ing  and  blowing  at  his  heels  with  a  highly  satisfied 
I-told-you-so  expression  on  his  round  features. 

"He  made  it!  The  tide  has  turned,"  cried  the 
doctor  as  he  burst  in  waving  the  message  on  high. 
"Yes!"  he  explained,  in  answer  to  their  excited 
questions.  ' '  Murray  got  the  money  and  our  troubles 

276 


ELIZA   APPLETON'S    SACRIFICE 

are  over.  Now  give  me  some  coffee,  Eliza.  I'm  all 
shaky." 

"English  money !"  commented  Slater.  "The  same 
as  we  used  on  the  North  Pass." 

"Then  he  interested  Illis!"  cried  Dan. 

"Yep !  He's  the  white-winged  messenger  of  hope. 
I  wasn't  worried  for  a  minute,"  Tom  averred. 

The  breakfast  which  followed  was  of  a  somewhat 
hysterical  and  fragmentary  nature,  for  Eliza  felt  her 
heart  swelling,  and  the  faithful  Gray  was  all  but 
undone  by  the  strain  he  had  endured. 

"That's  the  first  food  I've  tasted  for  weeks,"  he 
confessed.  "I've  eaten,  but  I  haven't  tasted;  and 
now — I'm  not  hungry."  He  sighed,  stretched  his 
long  limbs  gratefully,  and  eyed  the  Appletons  with 
a  kindly  twinkle.  "You  were  up  in  the  air,  too, 
weren't  you?  The  chief  will  appreciate  last  night's 
affair." 

Eliza  colored  faintly.  "It  was  nothing.  Please 
don't  tell  him."  At  the  incredulous  lift  of  his  brows 
she  hastened  to  explain:  "Tom  said  you  men 
'belonged'  to  Mr.  O'Neil  and  Dan  was  an  outsider. 
That  hurt  me  dreadfully." 

"Well,  he  can't  say  that  now;  Dan  is  one  of 
Murray's  boys,  all  right,  and  you — you  must  be  his 
girl." 

At  that  moment  Mellen  and  McKay  burst  into  the 
bungalow,  demanding  the  truth  behind  the  rumor 
which  had  just  come  to  their  ears;  and  there  fol 
lowed  fresh  explanations  and  rejoicings,  through 
which  Eliza  sat  quietly,  thrilled  by  the  note  of 
genuine  affection  and  loyalty  that  pervaded  it  all. 
But,  now  that  the  general  despondency  had  vanished 
and  joy  reigned  in  its  place,  Tom  Slater  relapsed 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

into  his  habitual  gloom  and  spoke  forebodingly  of 
the  difficulties  yet  to  be  encountered. 

"Murray  don't  say  how  much  he's  raised,"  he 
remarked.  "It  may  be  only  a  drop  in  the  bucket. 
We'll  have  to  go  through  all  this  again,  probably, 
and  the  next  time  he  won't  find  it  so  easy  to  sting  a 
millionaire." 

"We'll  last  through  the  winter  anyhow — " 

* '  Winter !' '  Slater  shook  his  bald  head.  ' '  Winter 
is  hard  on  old  men  like  me." 

"We'll  have  the  bridge  built  by  spring,  sure!" 
Mellen  declared. 

"Maybe!  I  hope  so.  I  wish  I  could  last  to  see 
it,  but  the  smallpox  undermined  me.  Perhaps  it's 
a  mercy  I'm  so  far  gone;  nobody  knows  yet  whether 
the  bridge  will  stand,  and — I'd  hate  to  see  it  go 
out." 

"It  won't  go  out,"  said  the  engineer,  confidently. 

"Maybe  you're  right.  But  that's  what  Trevor 
said  about  his  breakwater.  His  work  was  done,  and 
ours  isn't  hardly  begun.  By  the  way,  Murray 
didn't  say  he  had  the  money;  he  just  said  he  ex 
pected  to  get  it." 

"Go  out  and  hang  your  crepe  on  the  roundhouse," 
Dan  told  him;  "this  is  a  jubilee.  If  you  keep  on 
rejoicing  you'll  have  us  all  in  tears."  When  the 
others  had  gone  he  turned  to  Eliza.  "Why  don't 
you  want  O'Neil  to  know  about  that  money,  Sis?"  he 
asked,  curiously.  "When  I'm  a  hero  I  like  to  be 
billed  as  one." 

"Please!"  She  hesitated  and  turned  her  face 
away.  ' '  You — you  are  so  stupid  about  some  things. ' ' 

On  the  afternoon  of  this  very  day  Curtis  Gordon 
found  Natalie  at  a  window  staring  out  across  the 

278 


ELIZA    APPLETON'S    SACRIFICE 

sound  in  the  direction  of  Omar.     He  laid  a  warm 
hand  upon  her  shoulder  and  said: 

"My  dear,  confess!     You  are  lonesome." 

She  nodded  silently. 

' '  Well,  well !  We  mustn't  allow  that.  Why  don't 
you  run  over  to  Omar  and  see  your  friend  Miss 
Appleton?  She  has  a  cheerful  way  with  her." 

"I'm  afraid  things  aren't  very  gay  over  there," 
said  Natalie,  doubtfully. 

"Quite  probably.  But  the  fact  that  O'Neil  is  on 
his  last  legs  needn't  interfere  with  your  pleasure. 
A  change  will  do  you  good." 

' '  You  are  very  kind, ' '  she  murmured.  ' '  You  have 
done  everything  to  make  me  happy,  but — it's  au 
tumn.  Winter  is  coming.  I  feel  dull  and  lonely  and 
gray,  like  the  sky.  Are  you  sure  Mr.  O'Neil  has 
failed?" 

"Certainly.  He  tried  to  sell  his  holdings  to  the 
Trust,  but  they  refused  to  consider  it.  Poor  fel 
low!"  he  continued,  unctuously.  "Now  that  he's 
down  I  pity  him.  One  can't  dislike  a  person  who 
has  lost  the  power  of  working  harm.  His  men  are 
quitting:  I  doubt  if  he'll  dare  show  his  face  in  this 
country  again.  But  never  mind  all  that.  There's 
a  boat  leaving  for  Omar  in  the  morning.  Go ;  have 
a  good  time,  return  when  you  will,  and  tell  us  how 
they  bear  up  under  their  adversity."  He  patted  her 
shoulder  affectionately  and  went  up  to  his  room. 

It  was  true  enough  that  Natalie  had  been  un 
happy  since  returning  to  Hope — not  even  her 
mother  dreamed  how  she  rebelled  at  remaining  here. 
She  was  lonely,  uninterested,  vaguely  homesick. 
She  missed  the  intimate  companionship  of  Eliza; 
she  missed  Dan's  extravagant  courting  and  O' Neil's 

279 


THE   IRON   TRAIL 

grave,  respectful  attentions.  She  also  felt  the  loss 
of  the  honest  good-fellowship  of  all  those  people  at 
Omar  whom  she  had  learned  to  like  and  to  admire. 
Life  here  was  colorless,  and  was  still  haunted  by  the 
shadow  of  that  thing  from  which  she  and  her  mother 
had  fled. 

Gordon,  indeed,  had  been  generous  to  them  both. 
Since  his  marriage  his  attitude  had  changed  en 
tirely.  He  was  polite,  agreeable,  charmingly  de 
voted:  no  ship  arrived  without  some  tangible  and 
expensive  evidence  of  his  often-expressed  desire  to 
make  his  wife  and  stepdaughter  happy;  he  antici 
pated  their  slightest  wish.  Under  his  assiduous 
attentions  Natalie's  distrust  and  dislike  had  slowly 
melted,  and  she  came  to  believe  that  she  had  mis 
judged  him.  There  were  times  when  he  seemed  to  be 
overdoing  the  matter  a  bit,  times  when  she  won 
dered  if  his  courtesy  could  be  altogether  disinterested ; 
but  these  occasions  were  rare,  and  always  she  scorn 
fully  accused  herself  of  disloyalty.  As  for  Gloria, 
she  was  deeply  contented — as  nearly  happy,  in  fact, 
as  a  woman  of  her  temperament  could  be,  and  in  this 
the  daughter  took  her  reward. 

Natalie  arrived  at  Omar  in  time  to  see  the  full 
effect  of  the  good  news  from  New  York,  and  joined 
sincerely  in  the  general  rejoicing.  She  returned  after  a 
few  days,  bursting  with  the  tidings  of  O'Neil's  victory. 

Gordon  listened  to  her  with  keenest  attention; 
he  drew  her  out  artfully,  and  when  he  knew  what  he 
had  sent  her  to  learn  he  gave  voice  to  his  unwelcome 
surprise. 

"Jove!"  he  snarled.  ''That  beggar  hoodwinked 
the  Heidlemanns,  after  all.  It's  their  money. 
What  fools !  What  fools !' ' 

280 


ELIZA    APPLETON'S    SACRIFICE 

Natalie  looked  up  quickly. 

"Does  it  affect  your  plans?"  she  asked. 

"Yes — in  a  way.     It  consolidates  my  enemies." 

"You  said  you  no  longer  had  any  ill  feeling  toward 
Mr.  O'Neil." 

Gordon  had  resumed  his  usual  suavity.  "When  I 
say  enemies,"  he  qualified,  "of  course,  I  mean  it 
only  in  a  business  sense.  I  heard  that  the  Trust 
had  withdrawn,  discouraged  by  their  losses,  but,  now 
that  they  re-enter  the  field,  I  shall  have  to  fight 
them.  They  would  have  done  well  to  consult  me — 
to  buy  me  off,  rather  than  be  bled  by  O'Neil.  They 
shall  pay  well  for  their  mistake,  but — it's  incredible! 
That  man  has  the  luck  of  the  devil." 

That  evening  he  and  Denny  sat  with  their  heads 
together  until  a  late  hour,  and  when  they  retired 
Gordon  had  begun  to  whip  new  plans  into  shape. 

- 


XX 

HOW   GORDON    CHANGED   HIS   ATTACK 

O 'NEIL'S  return  to  Omar  was  triumphal.  All 
his  lieutenants  gathered  to  meet  him  at  the 
pier  and  the  sincerity  of  their  welcome  stirred  him 
deeply.  His  arrangements  with  Illis  had  taken 
time;  he  had  been  delayed  at  Seattle  by  bridge 
details  and  the  placing  of  steel  contracts.  He  had 
worked  swiftly,  and  with  such  absorption  that  he 
had  paid  little  heed  to  the  rumors  of  Gordon's 
latest  activities.  Of  the  new  venture  which  his  own 
success  had  inspired  he  knew  only  the  bare  outline. 
He  had  learned  enough,  however,  to  arouse  his 
curiosity,  and  as  soon  as  the  first  confusion  of  his 
arrival  at  the  front  was  over  he  asked  for  news. 

"Haven't  you  read  the  papers?"  inquired  "Happy 
Tom."  He  had  attached  himself  to  O'Neil  at  the 
moment  of  his  stepping  ashore,  and  now  followed 
him  to  headquarters,  with  an  air  of  melancholy  satis 
faction  in  mere  physical  nearness  to  his  chief. 

"Barely!"  O'Neil  confessed.  "I've  been  working 
twenty  hours  a  day  getting  that  steel  under  motion." 

Dr.  Gray  said  with  conviction:  "  Gordon  is  a  re 
markable  man.  It's  a  pity  he's  crooked." 

"I  think  it's  dam'  lucky,"  declared  Tom.  "  He's 
smarter  than  us,  and  if  he  wasn't  handicapped  by  a 
total  lack  of  decency  he'd  beat  us." 

282 


GORDON  CHANGES   HIS  ATTACK 

11  After  the  storm,"  explained  Gray,  "he  moved 
back  to  Hope,  and  we  thought  he'd  made  his  last 
bow,  but  in  some  way  he  got  the  idea  that  the 
Trust  was  back  of  us." 

"So  I  judged  from  the  little  I  read." 

"Well,  we  didn't  undeceive  him,  of  course.  His 
first  move  was  an  attack  through  the  press  in  the 
shape  of  a  broadside  against  the  Heidlemanns.  It 
fairly  took  our  breaths.  It  appeared  in  the  Cortez 
Courier  and  all  over  the  States,  we  hear — a  letter  of 
defiance  to  Herman  Heidlemann.  It  declared  that 
the  Trust  was  up  to  its  old  tricks  here  in  Alaska — 
had  gobbled  the  copper;  had  the 'coal  tied  up  under 
secret  agreements,  and  was  trying  to  get  possession 
of  all  the  coast-range  passes  and  defiles — the  old 
story.  But  the  man  can  write.  That  article  caused 
a  stir." 

"I  saw  it." 

"Naturally,  the  Cortez  people  ate  it  up.  They're 
sore  at  the  Trust  for  leaving  their  town,  and  at  us 
for  building  Omar.  Then  Gordon  called  a  mass- 
meeting,  and  some  of  us  went  up  to  watch  the  fire 
works.  I've  never  seen  anything  quite  like  that 
meeting;  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  city 
was  there,  and  they  hissed  us  when  we  came  in. 
Gordon  knew  what  he  was  about,  and  he  was  in 
fine  voice.  He  told  them  Cortez  was  the  logical 
point  of  entry  to  the  interior  of  Alaska  and  ought 
to  have  all  the  traffic.  He  fired  their  animosity 
toward  the  Trust,  and  accused  us  of  basely  selling 
out  to  it.  Then  he  broached  a  project  to  build,  by 
local  subscription,  a  narrow-gauge  electric  line  from 
Cortez,  utilizing  the  waterfalls  for  power.  The  idea 
caught  on,  and  went  like  wild-fire:  the  people  cheered 

283 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

themselves  hoarse,  and  pledged  him  over  a  hundred 
thousand  dollars  that  night.  Since  then  they  have 
subscribed  as  much  more,  and  the  town  is  crazy. 
Work  has  actually  begun,  and  they  hope  to  reach 
the  first  summit  by  Christmas." 

Slater  broke  in:  "He's  a  spell-binder,  all  right. 
He  made  me  hate  the  Heidlemanns  and  detest 
myself  for  five  minutes.  I  wasn't  even  sure  I  liked 
you,  Murray." 

4 'It's  a  wild  scheme,  of  course,"  continued  the 
doctor,  "but  he's  putting  it  over.  The  town 
council  has  granted  him  a  ninety-nine-year  lease 
covering  every  street;  the  road-bed  is  started,  and 
things  are  booming.  Lots  have  been  staked  all 
over  the  flats,  property  values  are  somersaulting, 
everybody  is  out  of  his  head,  and  Gordon  is  a  god. 
All  he  does  is  organize  new  companies.  He  has 
bought  a  sawmill,  a  wharf,  a  machine  shop,  acres 
of  real  estate.  He  has  started  a  bank  and  a  new 
hotel;  he  has  consolidated  the  barber  shops;  and  he 
talks  about  roofing  in  the  streets  with  glass  and 
making  the  town  a  series  of  arcades." 

Slater  half  smiled — evidence  of  a  convulsive  mirth 
within. 

"They've  picked  out  a  site  for  a  university!"  he 
said,  bitterly.  "Cortez  is  going  to  be  a  seat  of  learn 
ing  and  culture.  They're  planning  a  park  and  a 
place  for  an  Alaskan  World's  Fair  and  a  museum 
and  a  library.  I've  always  wondered  who  starts 
public  libraries — it's  'nuts.'  But  I  didn't  s'pose 
more  than  one  or  two  people  got  foolish  that  way." 

O'Neil  drew  from  his  pocket  a  newspaper  five 
days  old,  which  he  unfolded  and  opened  at  a  full- 
page  advertisement,  headed: 

284 


GORDON  CHANGES  HIS  ATTACK 

CORTEZ   HOME   RAILWAY 

"This  is  running  in  all  the  coast  papers,"  he  said, 

and  read: 

"OUR  PLATFORM: 

"  No  promotion  shares.  No  construction  profits. 

No  bonds.  No  incompetence. 

No  high-salaried  officials.  No  monopoly. 

No  passes  or  rebates.  No  graft. 

"OF  ALASKA,  BY  ALASKA,  FOR  ALASKA." 

There  was  much  more  of  a  similar  kind,  written 
to  appeal  to  the  quick-profit-loving  public,  and  it 
was  followed  by  a  violent  attack  upon  the  Trust  and 
an  appeal  to  the  people  of  Seattle  for  assistance,  at 
one  dollar  per  share. 

"Listen  to  this,"  O'Neil  went  on: 

"  Among  the  original  subscribers  are  the  following: 

"Hotels  and  saloons  of  Cortez $17,000 

City  Council 15,000 

Prospectors 7,000 

Ladies'  Guild  of  Cortez 740 

School-children  of  Cortez 420" 

Tom  grew  red  in  the  face  and  gave  his  character 
istic  snort.  "I  don't  mind  his  stringing  the  City 
Council  and  the  saloons,  and  even  the  Ladies'  Guild/' 
he  growled,  "but  when  he  steals  the  licorice  and 
slate-pencils  from  the  kids  it's  time  he  was  stopped/' 

Murray  agreed.  ' '  I  think  we  are  about  done  with 
Gordon.  He  has  led  his  ace." 

"I'm  not  sure.  This  is  a  kind  of  popular  uprising, 
like  a  camp-meeting.  If  I  went  to  Cortez  now, 
some  prattling  school-girl  would  wallop  me  with 

285 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

her  dinner-bucket.  We  can't  shake  Gordon  loose: 
he's  a  regular  splawus." 

"What  is  a  splawus,  Tom?"  inquired  Dr.  Gray. 

"It's  a  real  peculiar  animal,  being  a  cross  between 
a  bulldog  and  a  skunk.  We  have  lots  of  'em  in 
Maine!" 

O'Neil  soon  found  that  the  accounts  he  had  re 
ceived  of  Gordon's  last  attempt  to  recoup  his  for 
tunes  were  in  no  way  exaggerated.  Cortez,  long  the 
plaything  of  the  railroad-builders,  had  been  ripe  for 
his  touch:  it  rose  in  its  wounded  civic  pride  and 
greeted  his  appeal  with  frantic  delight.  It  was  quite 
true  that  the  school-children  had  taken  stock  in  the 
enterprise:  their  parents  turned  their  own  pockets 
inside  out,  and  subscriptions  came  in  a  deluge.  The 
price  of  real  estate  doubled,  quadrupled,  and  Gordon 
bought  just  enough  to  establish  the  price  firmly. 
The  money  he  paid  was  deposited  again  in  his  new 
bank,  and  he  proceeded  to  use  it  over  and  over  in 
maintaining  exorbitant  prices  and  in  advancing  his 
grandiose  schemes.  His  business  took  him  often  to 
Seattle,  where  by  his  whirlwind  methods  he  duplicated 
his  success  in  a  measure :  his  sensational  attack  upon 
the  money  powers  got  a  wide  hearing,  and  he  finally 
secured  an  indorsement  of  his  scheme  by  the  Busi 
nessmen's  Association.  This  done,  he  opened  splen 
did  offices  and  began  a  wide-spread  stock-flotation 
campaign.  Soon  the  Cortez  Home  Railway  became 
known  as  a  mighty,  patriotic  effort  of  Alaskans  to 
throw  off  the  shackles  of  oppression. 

Gordon  perfectly  understood  that  something  more 
than  vague  accusations  were  necessary  to  bring  the 
public  to  his  support  in  sufficient  numbers  to  sweep 
him  on  to  victory,  and  with  this  in  mind  he  laid  crafty 

286 


GORDON  CHANGES  HIS  ATTACK 

plans  to  seize  the  Heidlemann  grade.  The  Trust 
had  ceased  active  work  on  its  old  right-of-way  and 
moved  to  Kyak,  to  be  sure,  but  it  had  not  abandoned 
its  original  route,  and  in  fact  had  maintained  a  small 
crew  at  the  first  defile  outside  of  Cortez,  known  as 
Beaver  Canon.  Gordon  reasoned  shrewdly  that  a 
struggle  between  the  agents  of  the  Trust  and  the 
patriotic  citizens  of  the  town  would  afford  him  pre 
cisely  the  advertising  he  needed  and  give  point  to 
his  charge  of  unfair  play  against  the  Heidlemanns. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  incite  his  victims  to  this 
act  of  robbery.  On  the  contrary,  once  he  had  made 
the  suggestion,  he  had  hard  work  to  restrain  them 
until  he  had  completed  his  preparations.  These 
preparations  were  simple;  they  consisted  in  writing 
and  mailing  to  every  newspaper  of  consequence  a 
highly  colored  account  of  the  railroad  struggle. 
These  mimeographed  stories  were  posted  from 
Seattle  in  time  for  them  to  reach  their  destinations 
on  the  date  set  for  the  seizure  of  the  grade. 

It  was  an  ingenious  publicity  move,  worthy  of  a 
theatrical  press-agent,  and  it  succeeded  beyond  the 
promoter's  fondest  expectations — too  well,  in  fact, 
for  it  drove  the  Trust  in  desperation  to  an  alliance 
with  the  S.  R.  &  N. 

The  day  set  for  the  demonstration  came;  the 
citizens  of  Cortez  boldly  marched  into  Beaver 
Canon  to  take  possession  of  the  old  Heidlemann 
workings,  but  it  appeared  that  they  had  reckoned 
prematurely.  A  handful  of  grim-faced  Trust  em 
ployees  warned  them  back:  there  was  a  rush,  some 
rough  work  on  the  part  of  the  aggressors,  and  then  the 
guards  brought  their  weapons  into  play.  The  result 
afforded  Gordon  far  more  sensational  material  than  he 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

had  hoped  for:  one  citizen  was  killed  and  five  others 
were  badly  wounded.  Cortez,  dazed  and  horror- 
stricken,  arose  in  her  wrath  and  descended  upon  the 
" assassins";  lynchings  were  planned,  and  mobs 
threatened  the  local  jail,  until  soldiers  were  hurried 
thither  and  martial  law  was  declared. 

Of  course,  the  wires  were  burdened  with  the  ac 
counts  ;  the  reading  public  of  the  States  awoke  to  the 
fact  that  a  bitter  strife  was  waging  in  the  north  be 
tween  honest  miners  and  the  soulless  Heidlemann 
syndicate.  Gordon's  previously  written  and  carefully 
colored  stories  of  the  clash  were  printed  far  and 
wide.  Editorials  breathed  indignation  at  such  law 
lessness  and  pointed  to  the  Cortez  Home  Railway  as 
a  commendable  effort  to  destroy  the  Heidlemann 
throttle-hold  upon  the  northland.  Stock  subscrip 
tions  came  in  a  deluge  which  fairly  engulfed  Gordon's 
Seattle  office  force. 

During  this  brief  white-hot  campaign  the  pro 
moter  had  been  actuated  as  much  by  his  senseless 
hatred  of  O'Neil  as  by  lust  of  glory  and  gain,  and  it 
was  with  no  little  satisfaction  that  he  returned  to 
Alaska  conscious  of  having  dealt  a  telling  blow  to  his 
enemy.  He  sent  Natalie  to  Omar  on  another  visit  in 
order  that  he  might  hear  at  first  hand  how  O'Neil 
took  the  matter. 

But  his  complacency  received  a  shock  when  the 
girl  returned.  He  had  no  need  to  question  her. 

"Uncle  Curtis,"  she  began,  excitedly,  "you  ought 
to  stop  these  terrible  newspaper  stories  about  Mr. 
O'Neil  and  the  Trust." 

"Stop  them?     My  dear,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"He  didn't  sell  out  to  the  Trust.  He  has  nothing 
to  do  with  it." 

288 


GORDON   CHANGES  HIS  ATTACK 

"What?"    Gordon's  incredulity  was  a  challenge. 

"He  sold  to  an  Englishman  named  Illis.  They 
seem  to  be  amused  by  your  mistake  over  there  at 
Omar,  but  I  think  some  of  the  things  printed  are 
positively  criminal.  I  knew  you'd  want  the  truth — " 

"The  truth,  yes!  But  this  can't  be  true,"  stam 
mered  Gordon. 

"It  is.  Mr.  O'Neil  did  try  to  interest  the  Heidle- 
manns,  but  they  wouldn't  have  anything  to  do  with 
him,  and  the  S.  R.  &  N.  was  going  to  smash  when 
Mr.  Illis  came  along,  barely  in  time.  It  was  too 
exciting  and  dramatic  for  anything  the  way  Mr. 
O'Neil  found  him  when  he  was  in  hiding — " 

"Hiding?" 

"Yes.  There  was  something  about  blackmail,  or 
a  secret  arrangement  between  Mr.  Illis  and  the 
Yukon  River  lines  —  I  couldn't  understand  just 
what  it  was — but,  anyhow,  Murray  took  advantage 
of  it  and  saved  the  North  Pass  and  the  S.  R.  &  N.  at 
the  same  time.  It  was  really  a  perfectly  wonderful 
stroke  of  genius.  I  determined  at  once  that  you 
should  stop  these  lies  and  correct  the  general  idea 
that  he  is  in  the  pay  of  the  Trust.  Why,  he  went  to 
Cortez  last  week  ana  they  threatened  his  life!" 

Mrs.  Gordon,  who  had  listened,  said,  quietty: 
"Don't  blame  Curtis  for  that.  That  bloody  affray 
at  Beaver  Canon  has  made  Cortez  bitter  against 
every  one  connected  with  the  Heidlemanns." 

"What  about  this  blackmail?"  said  her  husband, 
upon  whose  ear  the  word  had  made  a  welcome  im 
pression.  "I  don't  understand  what  you  mean  by 
O'Neil's  'saving'  the  North  Pass  and  his  own  road 
at  the  same  time — nor  Illis's  being  in  hiding." 

"Neither  do  I,"  Natalie  confessed,  "but  I  know 
289 


l  ilE    IRON    TRAIL 

you  have  made  a  mistake  that  ought  to  be  set 
right." 

"Why  doesn't  he  come  out  with  the  truth?" 

"The  whole  thing  is  secret." 

"Why?" 

Natalie  shrugged  hopelessly,  and  Gordon  lost  him 
self  in  frowning  thought. 

"This  is  amazing,"  he  said,  brusquely,  after  a 
moment.  "It's  vital.  It  affects  all  my  plans.  I 
must  know  everything  at  once." 

"I'm  sorry  I  paid  so  little  attention." 

"Never  mind;  try  it  again  and  be  diplomatic. 
If  O'Neil  won't  tell  you,  question  Applet  on — you 
can  wind  him  around  your  fingers  easily  enough." 

The  girl  eyed  him  with  a  quick  change  of  expres 
sion. 

"Isn't  it  enough  to  know  that  the  Trust  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  S.  R.  &  N.?" 

"No!"  he  declared,  impatiently.  "I  must  know 
the  whole  inside  of  this  secret  understanding — this 
blackmail,  or  whatever  it  is." 

"Then— I'm  sorry." 

"Come!     Don't  be  silly.     You  can  do  me  a  great 


service." 


"You  said  you  no  longer  disliked  Mr.  O'Neil  and 
that  he  couldn't  harm  you." 

"Well,    well!     Must    I    explain    the    whys    and 
wherefores  of  every  move  I  make?" 

"It  would  be  spying  if  I  went  back.     The  matter 
is  confidential — I  know  that." 

"Will  you  do  as  I  ask?"  he  demanded. 

Natalie  answered  him  firmly:    "No!     I  told  you 
what  I  did  tell  only  so  that  you  might  correct— 

"You  rebel,  eh?"     Gordon  spoke  out  furiously. 
290 


GORDON  CHANGES   HIS  ATTACK 

It  was  their  first  clash  since  the  marriage.  Mrs. 
Gordon  looked  on,  torn  between  loyalty  to  her 
husband  and  a  desire  to  protect  her  daughter.  She 
was  searching  her  mind  painfully  for  the  compromise, 
the  half-truth  that  was  her  remedy  for  every  moral 
distress.  At  length  she  said,  placatingly : 

''I'm  sure  Natalie  will  help  you  in  any  way  she 
can,  Curtis.  She  isn't  rebellious,  she  merely  doesn't 
understand." 

"She  doesn't  need  to  understand.  It  is  enough 
that  I  direct  her—  As  Natalie  turned  and  walked 
silently  to  the  window  he  stifled  an  oath.  "Have 
I  no  authority?"  he  stormed.  "Do  you  mean  to 
obey?" 

"Wait!"  Gloria  laid  a  restraining  hand  on  his 
arm.  ' '  Perhaps  I  can  learn  what  you  want  to  know. 
Mr.  O'Neil  was  very  kind— 

Her  daughter  whirled,  with  white  face  and  flashing 
eyes. 

"Mother!"  she  gasped. 

"Our  loyalty  begins  at  home,"  said  Gloria,  feebly. 

"Oh-h!  I  can't  conceive  of  your — of  such  a 
thing.  If  you  have  no  decency,  I  have.  I'm  sorry 
I  spoke,  but — if  you  dare  to  do  such  a  thing  I  shall 
warn  Mr.  O'Neil  that  you  are  a  spy."  She  turned 
a  glance  of  loathing  on  Gordon.  "I  see,"  she  said, 
quietly.  "You  used  me  as  a  tool.  You  lied  about 
your  feeling  toward  him.  You  meant  harm  to  him 
all  the  time."  She  faced  the  window  again. 

"Lied!"  he  shouted.  "Be  careful— that's  pretty 
strong  language.  Don't  try  me  too  far,  or  you  may 
find  yourself  adrift  once  more.  I  have  been  too 
patient.  But  I  have  other  ways  of  finding  out  what 
I  wish  to  know,  and  I  shall  verify  what  you  have 

291 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

told  me."  He  strode  angrily  from  the  room,  leaving 
Natalie  staring  out  upon  the  bleak  fall  scene,  her 
shoulders  very  straight,  her  breast  heaving.  Gloria 
did  not  venture  to  address  her. 

Fortunately  for  the  peace  of  all  concerned,  Gordon 
left  for  Seattle  on  the  next  steamer.  Neither  of  the 
women  believed  that  Natalie's  fragmentary  revela 
tion  was  the  cause  of  his  departure;  but,  once  in 
touch  with  outside  affairs,  he  lost  no  time  in  running 
down  the  clues  he  had  gathered,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  he  had  learned  enough  to  piece  the  truth 
together.  Then  he  once  more  brought  his  mimeo 
graph  into  use. 


XXI 

DAN  APPLETON  SLIPS  THE  LEASH 

THE  first  winter  snows  found  O' Neil's  track 
laid  to  the  bridge  site  and  the  structure  itself 
well  begun.  He  had  moved  his  office  out  to  the 
front,  and  now  saw  little  of  Eliza,  who  was  busied 
in  writing  her  book.  She  had  finished  her  magazine 
articles,  and  they  had  been  accepted,  but  she  had 
given  him  no  hint  as  to  their  character. 

One  afternoon  "Happy  Tom"  burst  in  upon  his 
chief,  having  hastened  out  from  Omar  on  a  con 
struction-train.  Drawing  a  Seattle  paper  from  his 
pocket,  he  began  excitedly: 

"Well,  the  fat's  in  the  fire,  Murray!  Somebody 
has  belched  up  the  whole  North  Pass  story." 

O'Neil  seized  the  newspaper  and  scanned  it  hur 
riedly.  He  looked  up,  scowling. 

"Who  gave  this  out?"  he  inquired,  in  a  harsh  voice. 

Slater  shrugged.  "It's  in  the  Cortez  Courier  too, 
so  I  s'pose  it  came  from  Gordon.  Blessings  come 
from  one  source,  and  Gordon's  the  fountain  of  all 
evil.  I'm  getting  so  I  blame  him  for  everything 
unpleasant.  Sometimes  I  think  he  gave  me  the 
smallpox." 

"Where  did  he  learn  the  inside  of  Illis's  deal? 
By  God!  There's  a  leak  somewhere!" 

"Maybe  he  uncovered  it  back  there  in  the  States." 

293 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

Murray  shook  his  head.  "Nobody  knows  any 
thing  about  it  except  you  boys."  He  seized  the 
telephone  at  his  elbow  and  called  Dr.  Gray,  while 
Tom  listened  with  his  shining  forehead  puckered 
anxiously.  O'Neil  hung  up  with  a  black  face. 

"Appleton!"  he  said. 

Tom  looked,  if  possible,  a  shade  gloomier  than 
usual.  "I  wouldn't  be  too  sure  it  was  Dan  if  I 
was  you,"  he  ventured,  doubtfully. 

"Where  is  he?"  O'Neil  ground  out  the  words 
between  his  teeth. 

"Surveying  the  town-site  addition.  If  he  let 
anything  slip  it  was  by  mistake— 

' '  Mistake !  I  won't  employ  people  who  make  mis 
takes  of  that  kind.  This  story  may  bring  the 
Canadian  Government  down  on  Illis  and  forfeit  his 
North  Pass  charter — to  say  nothing  of  our  authori 
ties.  That  would  finish  us."  He  rose,  went  to  the 
door,  and  ordered  the  recently  arrived  engine  un 
coupled.  Flinging  himself  into  his  fur  coat,  he 
growled:  "I'd  rather  have  a  crook  under  me  than 
a  fool.  Appleton  told  us  he  talked  too  much." 

Tom  pursed  his  lips  thoughtfully.  "Gordon  got 
it  through  the  Gerard  girl,  I  s'pose." 

"Gordon!  Gordon!  Will  there  never  be  an  end 
to  Gordon?"  His  frown  deepened.  "He's  in  the 
way,  Tom.  If  he  balks  this  deal  I'm  afraid  I'll— 
have  to  change  ghosts." 

1 '  It  would  be  a  pious  act , "  Slater  declared.  ' '  And 
his  ghost  wouldn't  ha'nt  you  none,  either.  It  would 
put  on  its  asbestos  overshoes  and  go  out  among  the 
other  shades  selling  stock  in  electric  fans  or  'Gor 
don's  Arctic  Toboggan  Slide.'  He'd  promote  a 
Purgatory  Development  Company  and  underwrite 

294 


APPLETON    SLIPS    THE    LEASH 

the  Bottomless  Pit  for  its  sulphur.  I — I'd  hate  to 
think  this  came  from  Dan." 

The  locomotive  had  been  switched  out  by  this 
time,  and  O'Neil  hurried  to  board  it.  On  his  way  to 
Omar  he  had  time  thoroughly  to  weigh  the  results 
of  this  unexpected  complication.  His  present  desire 
was  merely  to  verify  his  suspicion  that  Appleton  had 
told  his  secret  to  Natalie;  beyond  that  he  did  not 
care  to  think,  for  there  was  but  one  course  open. 

His  anger  reached  the  blazing  -  point  after  his 
arrival.  As  he  stepped  down  from  the  engine-cab 
Gray  silently  handed  him  a  code  message  from 
London  which  had  arrived  a  few  moments  before. 
When  its  contents  had  been  deciphered  O'Neil 
cursed,  and  he  was  furious  as  he  stumbled  through 
the  dark  toward  the  green  bungalow  on  the  hill. 

Swinging  round  the  corner  of  the  house,  he  came 
into  a  bright  radia.nce  which  streamed  forth  from 
Eliza's  window,  and  he  could  not  help  seeing  the 
interior  of  the  room.  She  was  there,  writing  busily, 
and  he  saw  that  she  was  clad  in  the  elaborate  kimono 
which  he  had  given  her;  yet  it  was  not  her  personal 
appearance  which  arrested  his  angry  eyes  and  caused 
his  step  to  halt;  it  was,  instead,  her  surroundings. 

He  had  grown  to  accept  her  prim  simplicity  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  never  associated  her  in  his 
thoughts  with  anything  feminine,  but  the  room  as  it 
lay  before  him  now  was  a  revelation  of  daintiness 
and  artful  decoration.  Tasteful  water-colors  hung 
on  the  walls,  a  warm  rug  was  on  the  floor,  and  every 
where  were  rosy  touches  of  color.  The  plain  white 
bed  had  been  transformed  into  a  couch  of  Oriental 
luxury;  a  lace  spread  of  weblike  texture  covered  it, 
the  pillows  WTP  hidden  beneath  billowing  masses 

205 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

of  ruffles  and  ribbons.  He  saw  a  typical  woman's 
cozy  corner  piled  high  with  cushions;  there  was  a 
jar  of  burning  incense  sticks  near  it — everything,  in 
fact,  was  utterly  at  variance  with  his  notions  of  the 
owner.  Even  the  girl  herself  seemed  transfigured, 
for  her  hair  was  brought  forward  around  her  face  in 
some  loose  mysterious  fashion  which  gave  her  a 
bewilderingly  girlish  appearance.  As  he  looked  in 
upon  her  she  raised  her  face  so  that  the  light  shone 
full  upon  it;  her  brows  were  puckered,  she  nibbled 
at  the  end  of  her  pencil,  in  the  midst  of  some  creative 
puzzle. 

O'Neil's  eyes  photographed  all  this  in  a  single 
surprised  glance  as  he  passed;  the  next  moment  he 
was  mounting  the  steps  to  the  porch. 

Dan  flung  open  the  door,  but  his  words  of  greeting 
froze,  his  smile  of  welcome  vanished  at  sight  of  his 
chief's  forbidding  visage. 

Murray  was  in  no  mood  to  waste  words;  he  began 
roughly : 

"Did  you  tell  Miss  Gerard  that  Poultney  Illis  is 
backing  me?" 

Dan  stammered.  "I — perhaps — I —  What  has 
gone  wrong,  Chief?" 

"Did  you  tell  her  the  inside — the  story  of  his 
agreement  with  the  steamboat  people?" 

Dan  paled  beneath  his  tan,  but  his  eyes  met  Mur 
ray's  without  flinching.  "I  think  I  did— tell  her 
something.  I  don't  quite  remember.  But  anything 
I  may  have  said  was  in  confi— 

"I  thought  so.  I  merely  wished  to  make  certain. 
Well,  the  whole  thing  is  in  the  papers." 

Appleton  laid  his  hand  upon  the  table  to  steady 
himself, 

296 


APPLETON    SLIPS    THE    LEASH 

' '  Then  it — didn ' t  come  from  her.    She  wouldn't — ' ' 

"Gordon  has  spread  the  story  broadcast.  It 
couldn't  have  come  from  any  other  source;  it  couldn't 
have  reached  him  in  any  other  way,  for  none  of  my 
boys  has  breathed  a  word/'  His  voice  rose  despite 
his  effort  at  self-control.  "Illis's  agreement  was 
illegal,'1  he  said,  savagely;  "it  will  probably  forfeit 
the  charter  of  the  North  Pass  or  land  him  in  court. 
I  suppose  you  realize  that!  I  discovered  his  secret 
and  assured  him  it  was  safe  with  me;  now  you  peddle 
it  to  Gordon,  and  the  whole  thing  is  public.  Here's 
the  first  result."  He  shook  the  London  cablegram 
in  Dan's  face,  and  his  own  was  distorted  with  rage. 
There  was  a  stir  in  Eliza's  room  which  neither 
noticed.  Appleton  wiped  his  face  with  uncertain 
hand;  he  moistened  his  lips  to  say: 

"I — I'm  terribly  sorry!  But  I'm  sure  Natalie 
wouldn't  spy — I  don't  remember  what  I  told  her, 
or  how  I  came  to  know  about  the  affair.  Doc 
Gray  told  me,  I  think,  in  the  first  excitement,  but — 
God!  She — wouldn't  knowingly — " 

"Gordon  fired  you  for  talking  too  much.  I 
thought  you  had  learned  your  lesson,  but  it  seems 
you  hadn't.  Don't  blame  Miss  Gerard  for  pumping 
you — her  loyalty  belongs  to  Gordon  now.  But  I 
require  loyalty,  too.  Since  you  lack  it  you  can  go." 

O'Neil  turned  as  Eliza's  door  opened;  she  stood 
before  him,  pale,  frightened,  trembling. 

"I  couldn't  help  hearing,"  she  said.  "You  dis 
charge  us?" 

He  nodded.  "I'm  sorry !  I've  trusted  my  ' boys ' 
so  implicitly  that  the  thought  of  betrayal  by  them 
never  occurred  to  me.  I  can't  have  men  close  to  me 
who  make  such  mistakes  as  this/' 

20  297 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"Perhaps  there  was — an  excuse,  or  the  shadow 
of  one,  at  least.  When  a  man  is  in  love,  you  know — ' ' 

Murray  wheeled  upon  Dan  and  demanded  sharply : 

"What's  this?"  Then  in  a  noticeably  altered 
tone  he  asked,  "Do  you  love — Natalie?" 

"Yes." 

"Does  she  love  you?" 

"No,  sir!" 

O'Neil  turned  back  to  the  girl,  saying:  "I  told 
Dan,  when  I  hired  him,  that  he  would  be  called  upon 
to  dare  much,  to  suffer  much,  and  that  my  interests 
must  be  his.  He  has  disregarded  them,  and  he  must 
go.  That's  all.  There's  little  difference  between 
treachery  and  carelessness." 

"It's — too  bad,"  said  the  girl,  faintly.  Dan  stood 
stiff  and  silent,  wholly  dazed  by  the  sudden  collapse 
of  his  fortunes. 

"I'm  not  ungrateful  for  what  you've  done,  Apple- 
ton,"  O'Neil  went  on.  "I  intend  to  pay  you  well 
for  the  help  you  gave  me.  You  took  a  chance  at 
the  Canon  and  at  Gordon's  Crossing.  You'll  get 
a  check." 

"I  don't  want  your  damned  money,"  the  other 
gulped.  "I've  drawn  my  wages." 

"Nevertheless,  I  shall  pay  you  well.  It's  highly 
probable  that  you've  wrecked  the  S.  R.  &  N.  and 
ruined  me,  but  I  don't  intend  to  forget  my  obliga 
tions  to  you.  It's  unfortunate.  Call  on  the  cashier 
in  the  morning.  Good  night." 

He  left  them  standing  there  unhappily,  dumb  and 
stiff  with  shame.  Once  outside  the  house,  he  plunged 
down  the  hill  as  if  fleeing  from  the  scene  of  some 
crime.  He  rushed  through  the  night  blindly,  for  he 
had  loved  bis  assistant  engineer,  and  the  memory 

298 


APPLETON    SLIPS    THE    LEASH 

of  that  chalk-faced,  startled  girl  hurt  him  abom 
inably. 

When  he  came  to  the  company  office  he  was 
walking  slowly,  heavily.  He  found  Gray  inside  and 
dropped  into  a  chair:  his  face  was  grimly  set,  and  he 
listened  dully  to  the  physician's  rambling  talk. 

"I  fired  Appleton!"  he  broke  out,  at  last.  Gray 
looked  up  quickly.  "He  acknowledged  that  he — 
did  it.  I  had  no  choice.  It  came  hard,  though. 
He's  a  good  boy." 

"He  did  some  great  work,  Chief!" 

"I  know!  That  affair  at  the  Crossing — I  intend 
to  pay  him  well,  if  he'll  accept.  It's  not  that — I 
like  those  kids,  Stanley.  Eliza  took  it  harder  than 
he.  It  wasn't  easy  for  me,  either, ' '  he  sighed,  wearily. 
"I'd  give  ten  thousand  dollars  if  it  hadn't  happened. 
She  looked  as  if  I'd  struck  her." 

"What  did  they  say?" 

"Nothing.    He  has  been  careless,  disloyal — " 

"You  told  them  so?" 

O'Neil  nodded. 

"And  they  said  nothing?" 

1 '  Nothing !     What  could  they  say  ?" 

Gray  answered  gruffly:  "They  might  have  said  a 
good  deal.  They  might  have  told  you  how  they 
paid  off  your  men  and  saved  a  walk-out  when  I  had 
no  money." 

O'Neil  stared  incredulously.  ' '  What  are  you  talk 
ing  about?"  he  demanded. 

When  he  had  the  facts  he  rose  with  an  exclamation 
of  dismay. 

"God!  Why  didn't  you  tell  me?  Why  didn't 
they  speak  out?  I — I — why,  that's  loyalty  of  the 
finest  kind.  All  the  money  they  had  saved,  too — 

299 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

when  they  thought  I  had  failed!  Jove!  That  was 
fine.  Oh,  I'm  sorry!  I  wonder  what  they  think 
of  me?  I  can't  let  Dan  go  after  that.  I — "  He 
seized  his  cap  and  hurried  out  of  the  building. 

"It's  hardly  right — when  things  were  going  so 
well,  too!"  said  Dan.  He  was  sitting  crumpled  up 
in  a  chair,  Eliza's  arm  encircling  his  shoulders.  "I 
didn't  mean  to  give  up  any  secrets,  but — I'm  not 
myself  when  I'm  with  Natalie." 

"We  must  take  our  medicine/'  his  sister  told  him, 
gravely.  "We  deserve  it,  for  this  story  may  spoil 
all  he's  done.  I  didn't  think  it  of  her,  though." 

Dan  groaned  and  bowed  his  head  in  his  hands. 
"I  don't  know  which  hurts  worse,"  he  said — "his 
anger  or  her  action.  She — couldn't  do  such  a  thing, 
Sis;  she  just  couldn't !" 

"She  probably  didn't  realize — she  hasn't  much 
sense,  you  know.  But  after  all  he's  suffered,  to 
think  that  we  should  injure  him!  I  could  cry.  I 
think  I  shall." 

The  door  opened  before  a  rough  hand,  and  O'Neil 
strode  into  the  room,  huge,  shaggy  in  his  coonskin 
coat.  They  rose,  startled,  but  he  came  to  them 
swiftly,  a  look  of  mingled  shame  and  gladness  in  his 
face. 

"I've  come  back  to  apologize,"  he  cried.  "I 
couldn't  wait.  I've  learned  what  you  children  did 
while  I  was  gone,  and  I've  come  to  beg  forgiveness. 
It's  all  right— it's  all  right." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  Dan  gasped. 

"Doc  told  me  how  you  paid  those  men.  That 
was  real  friendship;  it  was  splendid.  It  touched  me, 
and  I — I  want  to  apologize.  You  see,  I  hurried 
right  back." 

300 


APPLETON    SLIPS    THE    LEASH 

They  saw  that  his  eyes  were  moist,  and  at  the 
sight  Eliza  gave  a  quivering  cry,  then  turned  swiftly 
to  hide  her  face.  She  felt  O'Neil's  fur-clad  arm 
about  her  shoulder;  his  hand  was  patting  her,  and 
he  was  saying  gently:  "You  are  a  dear  child.  It 
was  tremendously  good  of  you  both,  and  I — ought 
to  be  shot  for  acting  as  I  did.  I  wonder  if  you  can 
accept  a  wretched  apology  as  bravely  as  you  ac 
cepted  a  wrong  accusation." 

"It  wasn't  wrong;  it  was  right,"  she  sobbed. 
"Dan  told  her,  and  she  told  Gordon." 

"There,  there!  I  was  to  blame,  after  all,  for 
letting  any  one  know,  and  if  Dan  made  a  mistake  he 
has  more  than  offset  it  by  his  unselfishness — his 
sacrifices.  It  seems  I  forgot  how  much  I  really  owe 
him." 

"That  affair  with  the  shift  bosses  wasn't  any 
thing,"  said  Dan,  hastily,  "and  it  was  all  Eliza's 
idea.  I  refused  at  first,  but  when  she  started  to 
pay  them  herself  I  weakened."  He  stuttered 
awkwardly,  for  his  sister  was  motioning  him  des 
perately  to  be  silent;  but  he  ran  on:  "Oh,  he  ought 
to  know  the  whole  truth  and  how  rotten  I  acted, 
Sis.  I  deserve  to  be  discharged." 

"Please  don't  make  this  any  harder  for  me  than 
it  is,"  Murray  smiled.  "I'm  terribly  embarrassed, 
for  I'm  not  used  to  apologies.  I  can't  afford  to  be 
unjust;  I — have  so  few  friends  that  I  want  to 
cherish  them.  I'm  sorry  you  saw  me  in  such  a 
temper.  Anger  is  a  treacherous  thing,  and  it  always 
betrays  me.  Let's  forget  that  I  was  here  before 
and  pretend  that  I  just  came  to  thank  you  for  what 
you  did."  He  drew  Dan  into  the  shelter  of  his  other 
arm  and  pressed  the  two  young  people  to  him, 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"I  didn't  realize  how  deeply  you  kids  care  for  each 
other  and  for  me." 

"Then  I'm  not  fired?"  Dan  queried,  doubtfully. 

'  *  Of  course  not.  When  I  take  time  to  think  about 
discharging  a  man  I  invariably  end  by  raising  his 
salary." 

"Dan  isn't  worth  half  what  you're  paying  him," 
came  Eliza's  muffled  voice.  She  freed  herself  from 
Murray's  embrace  and  rearranged  her  hair  with 
tremulous  fingers.  Surreptitiously  she  wiped  her 
eyes.  "You  gave  us  an  awful  fright;  it's  terrible  to 
be  evicted  in  winter-time."  She  tried  to  laugh,  but 
the  attempt  failed  miserably. 

"Just  the  same,  when  a  man  contemplates  mar 
riage  he  must  have  money." 

"I  don't  want  your  blamed  money,"  Dan  blurted, 
"and  it  doesn't  cost  anything  to  contemplate  mar 
riage.  That's  all  I'm  doing — just  looking  at  it  from 
a  distance." 

' '  Perhaps  I  can  help  you  to  prevail  on  Miss  Natalie 
to  change  her  mind.  That  would  be  a  real  service, 
wouldn't  it?"  Under  his  grave  glance  Dan's  heart 
leaped.  "I  can't  believe  she's  indifferent  to  you, 
my  boy.  You're  suited  to  each  other,  and  there's 
no  reason  on  earth  why  you  shouldn't  marry.  Per 
haps  she  doesn't  know  her  own  mind." 

' '  You're  mighty  good,  but — ' '  The  lover  shook  his 
head. 

Murray  smiled  again.  "I  think  you're  too  timid. 
Don't  plead  and  beg — just  carry  her  off.  Be  firm 
and  masterful.  Be  rough — " 

"The  idea!"  exclaimed  Eliza.  "She's  no  cave- 
woman!" 

"Exactly.  If  she  were,  Dan  would  need  to  court 
302 


"i  DIDN'T  REALIZE  HOW  DEEPLY  YOU  KIDS  CARE  FOR  EACH 

OTHER    AND    FOR    ME  " 


APPLETON    SLIPS    THE    LEASH 

her  and  send  her  bouquets  of  wild  violets.  She's 
over-civilized,  and  therefore  he  needs  to  be  primi 
tive." 

Dan  blushed  and  faltered.  "I  can't  be  firm  with 
her,  Murray;  I  turn  to  jelly  whenever  she  looks  at 
me."  There  was  something  so  friendly  and  kind  in. 
his  employer's  attitude  that  the  young  fellow  was 
tempted  to  pour  out  all  his  vexations ;  he  had  never 
felt  so  close  to  O'Neil  as  now;  but  his  masculine  re 
serve  could  not  be  overcome  all  in  a  moment,  and  he 
held  his  tongue. 

When  Murray  had  put  the  two  young  people 
fully  at  their  ease  he  rose  to  go,  but  Eliza's  eager 
voice  made  him  turn  with  his  hand  on  the  door-knob. 

"What  can  we  do  about  this  unfortunate  Illis 
affair?"  she  asked.  "Dan  must  try  to — " 

"Leave  that  to  me.  I'll  straighten  it  out  some 
how.  It  is  all  my  fault,  and  I'll  have  to  meet  it." 
He  pressed  their  hands  warmly. 

When  he  had  gone  Dan  heaved  a  great  sigh  of 
relief. 

"I'm  glad  it  happened  just  as  it  did,  Sis,"  he  an 
nounced.  "He  knows  my  secret  now,  and  I  can  see 
that  he  never  cared  for  Natalie.  It's  a  load  off  my 
mind  to  know  the  track  is  clear." 

"What  a  simpleton  you  are!"  she  told  him. 
"Don't  you  see  he's  merely  paying  his  debt?" 

"I  wonder — "  Dan  eyed  her  in  amazement. 
"Gee!  If  that's  so  he  is  a  prince,  isn't  he?" 

The  same  ship  which  had  brought  the  ominous 
news  to  O'Neil  also  brought  Curtis  Gordon  north. 
He  had  remained  in  Seattle  only  long  enough  to  see 
the  Illis  story  in  print,  and  then  had  hastened  back 

303 


THE   IRON   TRAIL 

to  the  front.  But  his  satisfaction  over  the  mischief 
he  had  done  received  a  rude  jolt  when  at  his  first 
moment  of  leisure  he  looked  over  the  late  magazines 
which  he  had  bought  before  taking  leave.  In  one 
which  had  appeared  on  the  news-stands  that  very 
day  he  found,  to  his  amazement,  an  article  by  Miss 
Eliza  Appleton,  in  which  his  own  picture  appeared. 
He  pounced  upon  it  eagerly;  and  then,  as  he  read, 
his  eyes  narrowed  and  his  jaw  stiffened.  There, 
spread  out  to  the  public  gaze,  was  his  own  record 
in  full,  including  his  initial  venture  into  the  Kyak 
coal-fields,  his  abandonment  of  that  project  in  favor 
of  Hope  Consolidated,  and  an  account  of  his  con 
nection  with  the  latter  enterprise.  Eliza  had  not 
hesitated  to  call  the  mine  worthless,  and  she  showed 
how  he,  knowing  its  worthlessness  from  the  first, 
had  used  it  as  a  lure  to  investors.  Then  followed 
the  story  of  his  efforts  to  gain  a  foothold  in  the  rail 
road  struggle,  his  defeat  at  the  Salmon  River  Canon, 
his  rout  at  the  delta  crossing,  and  his  final  death-blow 
at  Kyak.  His  career  stood  out  boldly  in  all  its 
fraudulent  colors;  failure  was  written  across  every 
one  of  his  undertakings.  The  naked  facts  showed 
him  visionary,  incompetent,  unscrupulous. 

Thus  far  he  had  succeeded  in  keeping  a  large  part 
of  his  stock-holders  in  ignorance  of  the  true  condi 
tion  of  Hope  Consolidated,  but  he  quailed  at  the 
inevitable  result  of  this  article,  which  had  been  flung 
far  and  wide  into  every  city  and  village  in  the  land. 
He  dared  not  think  of  its  effect  upon  his  present  en 
terprise,  now  so  auspiciously  launched.  He  had 
made  a  ringing  appeal  to  the  public,  and  its  support 
would  hinge  upon  its  confidence  in  him  as  a  man  of 
affairs.  Once  that  trust  was  destroyed  the  Cortez 

304 


APPLETON    SLIPS    THE    LEASH 

Home  Railway  would  crumble  as  swiftly  as  had  all 
his  other  schemes. 

The  worst  of  it  was  that  he  knew  himself  shut  off 
from  the  world  for  five  days  as  effectually  as  if  he 
were  locked  in  a  dungeon.  There  was  no  wireless 
equipment  on  the  ship,  he  could  not  start  the  ma 
chinery  of  his  press  bureau,  and  with  every  hour  this 
damnable  story  was  bound  to  gain  momentum.  He 
cursed  the  luck  which  had  set  him  on  this  quest 
for  vengeance  and  bound  his  hands. 

Once  he  had  gathered  his  wits,  he  occupied  him 
self  in  the  only  possible  way — by  preparing  a  story  of 
his  own  for  the  wire.  But  for  the  first  time  in  his 
experience  he  found  himself  upon  the  defensive  and 
opposing  a  force  against  which  no  bland  persuasive 
ness,  no  personal  magnetism  could  prevail.  In  the 
scattered  nature  of  his  support  lay  his  greatest  weak 
ness,  for  it  made  the  task  of  self-justification  ex 
tremely  difficult.  Perhaps  it  was  well  for  his  peace 
of  mind  that  he  could  not  measure  the  full  effect  of 
those  forces  which  Eliza  Appleton's  pen  had  set  in 
motion. 

In  Omar,  of  course,  the  article  excited  lively  in 
terest.  O'Neil  felt  a  warm  thrill  of  satisfaction  as 
he  read  it  on  the  morning  after  his  scene  with  Eliza 
and  Dan.  But  it  deepened  his  feeling  of  obligation 
almost  painfully;  for,  like  all  who  are  thoughtlessly 
prodigal  of  their  own  favors,  he  was  deeply  sensible 
of  any  kindness  done  himself.  Eliza's  dignified 
exposition  of  Alaskan  affairs,  and  particularly  the 
agreeable  things  she  had  written  about  him,  were 
sure  to  be  of  great  practical  assistance,  he  knew,  and 
he  longed  to  make  some  real  return.  But  so  far  as 
she  was  concerned  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  that 

305 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

he  could  do.  With  Dan,  of  course,  it  was  quite  dif 
ferent.  Mere  money  or  advancement,  he  admitted, 
seemed  paltry,  but  there  was  a  possibility  of  another 
kind  of  service. 

Meanwhile  Dan  was  struggling  with  his  problem  in 
his  own  way.  The  possibility  that  Natalie  had  vol 
untarily  betrayed  him  was  a  racking  torture,  and  the 
remembrance  of  Eliza's  words  added  to  his  suffer 
ing.  He  tried  to  gain  some  hint  of  his  chief's  feeling, 
but  Murray's  frank  and  friendly  attitude  baffled  him. 

When  at  last  he  received  a  brief  note  from  Natalie 
asking  him  to  call,  he  raced  to  Hope  afraid,  yet  eager 
to  hear  what  she  might  say.  She  met  him  on  the 
dock  as  he  left  the  S.  R.  &  N.  motor-boat  and  led 
him  directly  to  the  house. 

Natalie  went  straight  to  the  point.  "I'm  in 
dreadful  trouble,"  she  said,  "and  I  sent  for  you  to 
tell  you  that  I  had  no  idea  of  betraying  confidences." 

Dan  uttered  some  inane  platitude,  but  his  eyes 
lighted  with  relief. 

"When  I  saw  in  the  papers  what  a  stir  that  North 
Pass  &  Yukon  story  had  made  I  was  afraid  I  had 
done  something  dreadful.  Tell  me,  is  it  so?  Did  I 
make  trouble?" 

"You  certainly  did.  O'Neil  was  furious,  and 
nobody  knows  yet  what  the  result  will  be.  It — it 
nearly  cost  me  my  head/' 

' '  Does  he  blame  me  ?" 

"N-no!  He  says  you're  on  Gordon's  side  now. 
He  blames  me,  or  did,  until  he  generously  took  it 
on  himself." 

"What  does  it  all  mean?  I'm  nearly  distracted." 
Natalie's  eyes  were  pleading.  "Did  you  think  I 
spied  on  you?" 

306 


APPLETON    SLIPS    THE    LEASH 

Dan  glowed  with  embarrassment  and  something 
more.  "I  didn't  know  what  to  think,"  he  said. 
"I  was  wretchedly  miserable,  for  I  was  afraid.  And 
yet  I  knew  you  couldn't  do  such  a  thing.  I  told 
O'Neil  I  wasn't  responsible  for  what  I  did  or  said 
when  with  you." 

"Mr.  Gordon  sent  me  to  Omar  purposely.  He 
sent:  me  twice.  It  was  I  who  brought  him  word 
that  the  road  was  saved.  I  told  all  I'd  learned 
because  I  believed  he  no  longer  hated  Mr.  O'Neil. 
I  was  happy  to  tell  all  I  knew,  for  he  deceived  me  as 
he  deceives  every  one.  I  learned  the  truth  too  late. " 

"Why  do  you  stay  here?"  Dan  demanded,  hotly. 

"Why?  I — don't  know.  Perhaps  because  I'm 
afraid  to  leave.  I'm  alone — you  see  mother  believes 
in  him:  she's  completely  under  his  sway,  and  I  can't 
tell  her  the  sort  of  man  he  is.  She's  happy,  and  her 
happiness  is  worth  more  to  me  than  my  own.  But — 
I  shall  go  away.  I  can't  stand  it  here  much  longer." 

"Where  will  you  go?" 

"Back  to  my  old  home,  perhaps.  Somewhere — 
anywhere  away  from  Alaska." 

"I  suppose  you  know  I  can't  get  along  without 
you." 

"Please  don't!  You  have  been  very  good  and 
sweet  to  me,  but — "  She  shook  her  dark  head.  "You 
couldn't  marry  me — even  if  I  cared  for  you  in  that 
way." 

"Why?  I  intend  to  marry  you  whether  you  want 
to  or  not." 

"Oh,  Dan,  it  wouldn't  do.  You  know — about— 
mother.  I've  nearly  died  of  shame,  and — it  would 
be  sure  to  come  up.  Somebody  would  speak  of 
it,  sometime." 

307 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

Dan's  blue  eyes  went  cold  and  smoky  as  he  said: 

"It  would  take  a  pretty  brave  person  to  mention 
the  subject  in  my  presence.  I  don't  care  a  whoop 
for  anything  Gordon  or  your  family  may  say  or 
do.  I— " 

There  was  a  stir  in  the  hall  outside,  and  the 
speaker  turned  to  behold  Curtis  Gordon  himself 
in  the  doorway.  The  latter  in  passing  had  been 
drawn  by  the  sound  of  voices  and  had  looked  into 
the  library.  Recognizing  Natalie's  caller,  he  frowned. 

4 '  What  is  this  ?"  he  inquired,  coldly.  ' '  A  proposal  ? 
Do  I  interrupt?" 

"You  do,"  said  Dan;  then,  after  a  pause,  "I'll 
finish  it  when  you  leave." 

Gordon  entered,  and  spoke  to  his  stepdaughter. 

"What  is  this  man  doing  in  my  house?" 

"He  is  here  at  my  invitation,"  she  replied. 

"Tell  him  to  leave.     I  won't  have  him  here." 

"Why  don't  you  tell  me?"  cried  Dan.  "I  don't 
need  an  interpreter." 

"Young  man,  don't  be  rash.  There  is  a  limit  to 
my  patience.  If  you  have  the  indecency  to  come 
here  after  what  you  have  done,  and  after  what  your 
sister  has  said  about  me,  I  shall  certainly — " 

Dan  broke  in  roughly:  "I  didn't  come  to  see 
you,  Gordon.  You  may  be  an  agreeable  sight  to 
some  people,  but  you're  no  golden  sunset  in  my  eyes. 
Eliza  flattered  you." 

Natalie  gave  a  little  terrified  cry,  for  the  men 
were  glaring  at  each  other  savagely.  Neither  seemed 
to  hear  her. 

"Did  you  read  that  article?" 

"Read  it?     I  wrote  it!" 

Gordon's  face  flamed  suddenly  with  rage;  he 

308 


APPLETON    SLIPS    THE    LEASH 

pointed   to   the   door  with  trembling  fingers,  and 
shouted : 

"Get  out!  I'll  not  have  you  here.  I  discharged 
you  once.  Get  out!"  His  utterance  was  rapid  and 
thick. 

Dan  smiled  mirthlessly,  dangerously.  In  a  soft 
voice  he  said : 

"I  haven't  finished  proposing.  I  expect  to  be 
accepted.  You'll  pardon  me,  I  know." 

"Will  you  go,  you — " 

Dan  turned  to  the  girl,  who,  after  that  first  outcry, 
had  stood  as  if  spellbound,  her  face  pale,  her  eyes 
shining. 

"Natalie  dear,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "you  can't  live 
in  the  same  house  with  this  beast.  He's  a  cheat 
and  a  scoundrel.  He's  done  his  best  to  spoil  your 
life,  and  he'll  succeed  if  you  stay,  so  come  with  me 
now.  Eliza  loves  you  and  wants  you,  and  I'll  never 
cease  loving  you  with  all  my  heart.  Marry  me,  and 
we'll  go—" 

Gordon  uttered  an  inarticulate  sound  and  came 
forward  with  his  hands  working  hungrily. 

"Don't  interrupt!"  warned  Dan,  over  his  shoulder, 
and  his  white  teeth  gleamed  in  sudden  contrast  with 
his  tan.  "No  man  could  love  you  as  I  do,  dear — " 
Gordon's  clutch  fell  upon  him  and  tightened.  Dan 
stiffened,  and  his  words  ceased.  Then  the  touch 
upon  his  flesh  became  unbearable.  Whirling,  he 
wrenched  himself  free.  He  was  like  a  wild  animal 
now;  body  and  spirit  had  leaped  into  rebellion  at 
contact  with  Gordon.  His  long  resentment  burst 
its  bounds;  his  lean  muscles  quivered.  His  frame 
trembled  as  if  it  restrained  some  tremendous  pressure 
from  within. 

309 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"Don't  do  that!"  he  cried,  hoarsely,  and  brushed 
the  sleeve  where  his  enemy's  fingers  had  rested,  as 
if  it  had  been  soiled. 

Gordon  snarled,  and  stretched  out  his  hand  a 
second  time;  but  the  younger  man  raised  his  fist 
and  struck.  Once,  twice,  again  and  again  he  flung 
his  bony  knuckles  into  that  purple,  distorted  face, 
which  he  loathed  as  a  thing  unclean.  He  battered 
down  the  big  man's  guard:  right  and  left  he  rained 
blows,  stepping  forward  as  his  victim  fell  back. 
Gordon  reeled,  he  pawed  wildly,  he  swung  his  arms, 
but  they  encountered  nothing.  Yet  he  was  a  heavy 
man,  and,  although  half  stunned  by  the  sudden 
onslaught,  he  managed  to  retain  his  feet  until  he 
brought  up  against  the  heavy  mahogany  reading- 
table  in  the  center  of  the  room.  His  retreat  ended 
there ;  another  blow  and  his  knees  buckled,  his  arms 
sagged.  Then  Dan  summoned  all  his  strength  and 
swung.  Gordon  groaned,  lurched  forward,  and 
sprawled  upon  the  warm  red  velvet  carpet,  face 
down,  with  his  limbs  twisted  under  him. 

His  vanquisher  stood  over  him  for  an  instant,  then 
turned  upon  Natalie  a  face  that  was  now  keen  and 
cruel  and  predatory. 

"Come!  We'll  be  married  to-day,"  he  said;  and, 
crossing  swiftly,  he  took  her  two  hands  in  his.  His 
voice  was  harsh  and  imperative.  "He's  down  and 
out,  so  don't  be  frightened.  Now  hurry!  I've  had 
enough  of  this  damned  nonsense." 

"I— I'm  not  frightened,"  she  said,  dazedly.  "But 
— I — "  Her  eyes  roved  past  him  as  if  in  quest  of 
something. 

"Here!  This  '11  do  for  a  wrap."  Dan  whipped 
his  fur  overcoat  from  a  chair  and  flung  it  about  her. 

310 


APPLETON    SLIPS    THE    LEASH 

"My  hat,  too!"  He  crushed  his  gray  Stetson  over 
her  dark  hair  and,  slipping  his  arm  about  her  shoul 
ders,  urged  her  toward  the  hall. 

"Mother!    She'll  never— " 

1 '  Well  call  on  her  together.  I'll  do  the  talking  for 
both  of  us."  He  jerked  the  front  door  open  with  a 
force  that  threatened  to  wrench  it  from  its  hinges 
and  thrust  his  companion  out  into  the  bracing  cold. 
Then,  as  Gordon's  Japanese  butler  came  running 
from  the  rear  of  the  house,  he  turned. 

"Hey,  you!"  he  cried,  sharply.  "The  boss  has 
gone  on  a  little  visit.  Don't  stumble  over  him. 
And  tell  Mrs.  Gordon  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Appleton 
will  call  on  her  in  a  few  days — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dan 
Appleton,  of  Omar!" 

It  was  but  a  few  steps  to  the  pier;  Dan  felt  that 
he  was  treading  on  air,  for  the  fierce,  unreasoning 
joy  of  possession  was  surging  through  his  veins. 
His  old  indecision  and  doubt  was  gone,  and  the  men 
he  met  recoiled  before  his  hostile  glance,  staring 
after  him  in  bewilderment. 

But  as  he  lifted  Natalie  down  into  the  launch  he 
felt  her  shaking  violently,  and  of  a  sudden  his  self 
ish  exultation  gave  way  to  a  tender  solicitude. 

"There,  there!"  he  said,  gently.  "Don't  cry, 
honey.  It's  all  right.  It's  all  right!" 

She  raised  her  face  to  his,  and  his  head  swam,  for 
he  saw  that  she  was  radiant. 

"I'm  not  crying;  I'm  laughing.  I — I'm  mad — 
insane  with  happiness." 

He  crushed  her  to  him,  he  buried  his  face  in  her 
neck,  mumbling  her  name  over  and  over:  and 
neither  of  them  knew  that  he  was  rapturously  kissing 
the  coonskin  collar  of  his  own  greatcoat.  The 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

launchman,  motor  crank  in  hand,  paused,  staring; 
he  was  still  open-mouthed  when  Dan,  catching  sight 
of  him,  shouted: 

1 '  What's  the  matter,  idiot  ?     Is  your  back  broken  ?" 

"Yes—  No,  sir!"  The  fellow  spun  the  fly 
wheel  vigorously;  the  little  craft  began  to  vibrate 
and  quiver  and  then  swung  out  from  shore. 

A  moment  later  and  the  engineman  yelled.  He 
came  stumbling  forward  and  seized  the  steering- 
wheel  as  the  boat  grazed  a  buoy. 

"That's  right,  you  steer,"  Dan  laughed,  relaxing 
his  hold.  To  Natalie  he  said,  "There's  a  sky-pilot 
in  Omar,"  and  pressed  her  to  him. 

"It's  a  long  way  to  Omar,"  she  answered,  then  hid 
her  face  against  his  breast  and  said,  meekly,  '  *  There's 
one  in  Cortez,  too,  and  he's  much  nearer." 


XXII 

HOW  THE  HAZARD  WAS  PLAYED 

ELIZA'S  greeting  to  the  runaways  was  as  warm  as 
their  hearts  could  wish.  She  divined  the  truth 
before  they  could  speak,  and  took  Natalie  in  her  arms 
with  a  glad  cry  of  welcome.  The  two  girls  kissed 
each  other,  wept,  laughed,  wept  a  little  more,  kissed 
again,  and  then  the  story  came  out. 

Dan  was  plainly  swollen  with  pride. 

"I  walloped  him,  Sis!"  he  told  her.  "I  got  even 
for  the  whole  family,  and  I  believe  his  eyes  are  closed 
even  to  the  beauties  of  nature.  He  won't  be  able  to 
read  the  wedding-notice." 

Eliza  hugged  his  arm  and  looked  at  him  adoringly. 

"It  must  have  been  perfectly  splendid!" 

Natalie  nodded.  "I  was  asleep,"  she  said,  "but 
Dan  shocked  me  wide  awake.  Can  you  imagine  it? 
I  didn't  know  my  own  feelings  until  he  went  for — 
that  brute.  Then  I  knew  all  at  once  that  I  had  loved 
him  all  the  time.  Isn't  it  funny  ?  It  came  over  me 
so  suddenly!  I — I  can't  realize  that  he's  mine." 
She  turned  her  eyes  upon  him  with  an  expression 
that  made  his  chest  swell  proudly. 

"Gee*"  he  exclaimed.  "If  I'd  known  how  she 
felt  I'd  have  pitched  into  the  first  fellow  I  met.  A 
man's  an  awful  fool  till  he  gets  married." 

There  followed  a  recital  of  the  day's  incidents,, 
21  313 


THE   IRON   TRAIL 

zestful,  full  of  happy  digressions,  endless;  for  the 
couple,  after  the  manner  of  lovers,  took  it  for  granted 
that  Eliza  was  caught  up  into  the  seventh  heaven 
along  with  them.  Dan  was  drunk  with  delight,  and 
his  bride  seemed  dizzied  by  the  change  which  had 
overtaken  her.  She  looked  upon  it  as  miraculous,  al 
most  unbelievable,  and  under  the  spell  of  her  happi 
ness  her  real  self  asserted  itself.  Those  cares  and 
humiliations  which  had  reacted  to  make  her  cold  and 
self-contained  disappeared,  giving  place  to  an  impet 
uous  girlishness  that  distracted  her  newly  made  hus 
band  and  delighted  Eliza.  The  last  lingering  doubts 
that  Dan's  sister  had  cherished  were  cleared  away. 

It  was  not  until  the  bride  had  been  banished  to 
prepare  for  dinner  that  Eliza  thought  to  ask  her 
brother : 

"Have  you  told  Mr.  O'Neil?" 

The  triumph  faded  suddenly  out  of  his  face. 

"Gee,  no!    I  haven't  told  anybody." 

They  stared  at  each  other,  reading  the  thoughts 
they  had  no  need  to  voice.  "Well,  I've  done  it! 
It's  too  late  now,"  said  Dan,  defiantly. 

"Maybe  he'll  fire  us  again.  I  would  if  I  were  he. 
You  must  tell  him  this  very  minute." 

"I — suppose  so,"  he  agreed,  reluctantly,  and 
picked  up  his  hat.  "And  yet — I — I  wonder  if  I'd 
better,  after  all.  Don't  you  think  it  would  sound 
nicer  coming  from  some  one  else?" 

"Why?" 

"Wouldn't  it  seem  like  crowing  for  me  to — to — 
For  instance,  now,  if  you — " 

"Coward!"  exclaimed  the  girl. 

He  nodded.  "But,  Sis,  you  do  have  a  nicer  way  of 
putting  things  than  I  have." 

3*4 


PLAYING   THE    HAZARD 

"Why,  I  wouldn't  tell  him  for  worlds.  I  couldn't. 
Poor  man!  We've  brought  him  nothing  but  sorrow 
and  bad  luck." 

"It's  fierce!" 

"Well,  don't  hesitate.  That's  what  Gordon  did, 
and  he  got  licked." 

Dan  scowled  and  set  his  features  in  a  brave  show  of 
moral  courage.  "She's  mine,  and  he  can't  take  her 
away,"  he  vowed,  "so — I  don't  care  what  happens. 
But  I'd  just  as  soon  slap  a  baby  in  the  face."  He 
left  the  house  like  a  man  under  sentence. 

When  he  returned,  a  half-hour  later,  Eliza  was 
awaiting  him  on  the  porch.  She  had  been  standing 
there  with  chattering  teeth  and  limbs  shaking  from 
the  cold  while  the  minutes  dragged. 

"What  did  he  say?"  she  asked,  breathlessly. 

"It  went  off  finely.  Thank  Heaven,  he  was  out  at 
the  front,  so  I  could  break  it  to  him  over  the  'phone!" 

* '  Did  he — curse  you  ?" 

"No;  I  opened  right  up  by  saying  I  had  bad 
news  for  him — " 

"Oh,  Dan!" 

"Yes!  I  dare  say  I  wasn't  very  tactful,  now  that 
I  think  it  over,  but,  you  see,  I  was  rattled.  I  spilled 
out  the  whole  story  at  once.  'Bad  news?'  said  he. 
'My  dear  boy,  I'm  delighted.  God  bless  you  both.' 
Then  he  made  me  tell  him  how  it  all  happened,  and 
listened  without  a  word.  I  thought  I'd  faint.  He 
pulled  some  gag  about  Daniel  and  the  lion;  then  his 
voice  got  far  away  and  the  blamed  wire  began  to 
buzz,  so  I  hung  up  and  beat  it  back  here.  I'm 
glad  it's  over." 

"He'll  probably  send  you  a  solid-silver  dinner-set 
or  raise  your  pay.  That's  the  kind  of  man  he  is." 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

Eliza's  voice  broke.  "Oh,  Danny,"  she  cried,  "he's 
the  dearest,  sweetest  thing — "  She  turned  away, 
and  he  kissed  her  sympathetically  before  going  inside 
to  the  waiting  Natalie. 

Instead  of  following,  Eliza  remained  on  the  porch, 
gazing  down  at  the  lights  of  the  little  city.  An 
engine  with  its  row  of  empty  flats  rolled  into  the 
yard,  panting  from  its  exertions ;  the  notes  of  a  piano 
came  to  her  faintly  from  the  street  below.  The 
lights  of  an  incoming  steamer  showed  far  down  the 
sound.  O'Neil  had  made  all  this,  she  reflected: 
the  busy  town,  the  hopeful  thousands  who  came 
and  went  daily  owed  their  prosperity  to  him.  He 
had  made  the  wilderness  fruitful,  but  what  of  his 
own  life?  She  suspected  that  it  was  as  bleak  and 
barren  as  the  mountain  slopes  above  Omar.  He,  too, 
looked  down  upon  this  thriving  intimate  little  com 
munity,  but  from  a  distance.  Beneath  his  unfailing 
cheerfulness  she  felt  sure  there  lurked  a  hunger 
which  the  mere  affection  of  his  'boys'  could  never 
satisfy.  And  now  the  thought  that  Dan  had  come 
between  him  and  his  heart's  desire  filled  her  with 
pity.  He  seemed  suddenly  a  very  lonely  figure  of  a 
man,  despite  his  material  success.  When  his  enemies 
were  doing,  had  already  done,  so  much  to  defeat 
him,  it  seemed  unfair  that  his  trusted  friend  should 
step  between  him  and  the  fulfilment  of  his  dearest 
ambition — that  ambition  common  to  all  men,  failure 
in  which  brings  a  sense  of  failure  to  a  man's  whole 
life,  no  matter  what  other  ends  are  achieved.  Of 
course,  he  would  smile  and  swallow  his  bitterness — 
that  was  his  nature — but  she  would  know  the  truth. 

"Poor  Omar  Khayyam,"  she  thought,  wistfully, 
"I  wish  there  were  love  enough  in  the  world  for  you. 


PLAYING   THE    HAZARD 

I  wish  there  were  two  Natalies,  or  that — "  Then 
she  shook  the  dream  from  her  mind  and  went  into 
the  house,  for  the  night  was  cold  and  she  was  shaking 
wretchedly. 

O'Neil  behaved  more  handsomely  even  than  Eliza 
had  anticipated.  He  hurried  into  town  on  the 
following  morning,  and  his  congratulations  were  so 
sincere,  his  manner  so  hearty  that  Dan  forgot  his 
embarrassment  and  took  a  shameless  delight  in 
advertising  his  happiness.  Nor  did  Murray  stop  with 
mere  words:  he  summoned  all  his  lieutenants,  and 
Omar  rang  that  night  with  a  celebration  such  as  it- 
had  never  before  known.  The  company  chef  had  been 
busy  all  day,  the  commissary  had  been  ransacked, 
and  the  wedding-supper  was  of  a  nature  to  interfere 
with  office  duties  for  many  days  thereafter.  Tom 
Slater  made  a  congratulatory  speech — in  reality,  a 
mournful  adjuration  to  avoid  the  pitfalls  of  matri 
monial  inharmony — and  openly  confessed  that  his 
digestion  was  now  impaired  beyond  relief.  Others 
followed  him;  there  was  music,  laughter,  a  riotous 
popping  of  corks;  and  over  it  all  O'Neil  presided 
with  grace  and  mellowness.  Then,  after  the  two 
young  people  had  been  made  thoroughly  to  feel  his 
good  will,  he  went  back  to  the  front,  and  Omar  saw 
him  but  seldom  in  the  weeks  that  followed. 

To  romantic  Eliza,  this  self -sought  seclusion  had 
but  one  meaning — the  man  was  broken-hearted. 
She  did  not  consider  that  there  might  be  other 
reasons  for  his  constant  presence  at  the  glaciers. 

Of  course,  since  the  unwelcome  publication  of  the 
North  Pass  &  Yukon  story  O'Neil  had  been  in 
close  touch  with  Illis,  and  by  dint  of  strong  argument 
had  convinced  the  Englishman  of  his  own  innocence 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

in  the  affair.  A  vigorous  investigation  might  have 
proved  disastrous,  but,  fortunately,  Curtis  Gordon 
lacked  leisure  in  which  to  follow  the  matter  up.  The 
truth  was  that  after  his  public  exposure  at  Eliza's 
hands  he  was  far  too  busy  mending  his  own  fences 
to  spare  time  for  attempts  upon  his  rival.  Conse 
quently,  the  story  was  allowed  to  die  out,  and  O'Neil 
was  finally  relieved  to  learn  that  its  effect  had  been 
killed.  Precisely  how  Illis  had  effected  this  he  did 
not  know,  nor  did  he  care  to  inquire.  Illis  had  been 
forced  into  an  iniquitous  bargain;  and,  since  he  had 
taken  the  first  chance  to  free  himself  from  it,  the 
question  of  abstract  right  or  wrong  was  not  a  subject 
for  squeamish  consideration. 

It  was  at  about  this  time  that  the  sanguinary 
affray  at  Beaver  Canon  began  to  bear  fruit.  One 
day  a  keen-faced,  quiet  stranger  presented  a  card 
at  Murray's  office,  with  the  name: 

HENRY  T.  ELAINE. 

Beneath  was  the  address  of  the  Heidlemann  build 
ing  in  New  York,  but  otherwise  the  card  told  nothing. 
Something  in  Mr.  Elaine's  bearing,  however,  led 
Murray  to  treat  him  with  more  than  ordinary  con 
sideration. 

"I  should  like  to  go  over  your  work,"  the  stranger 
announced;  and  O'Neil  himself  acted  as  guide. 
Together  they  inspected  the  huge  concrete  abut 
ments,  then  were  lowered  into  the  heart  of  the  giant 
caissons  which  protruded  from  the  frozen  stream. 
The  Salmon  lay  locked  in  its  winter  slumber  now, 
the  glaciers  stood  as  silent  and  inactive  as  the  snow- 
mantled  mountains  that  hemmed  them  in.  Down 

318 


PLAYING   THE    HAZARD 

into  the  very  bowels  of  the  river  the  men  descended, 
while  O'Neil  described  the  nature  of  the  bottom, 
the  depth  and  character  of  his  foundations,  and  the 
measure  of  his  progress.  He  explained  the  character 
of  that  bar  which  lay  above  the  bridge  site,  and 
pointed  out  the  heavy  layers  of  railroad  iron  with 
which  his  cement  work  was  reinforced. 

"I  spent  nearly  two  seasons  studying  this  spot 
before  I  began  the  bridge,"  he  continued.  "I  had 
men  here,  night  and  day,  observing  the  currents 
and  the  action  of  the  ice.  Then  I  laid  my  piers 
accordingly.  They  are  armored  and  reinforced  to 
withstand  any  shock." 

"The  river  is  subject  to  quick  rises,  I  believe?" 
suggested  Elaine. 

"Twenty  feet  in  a  few  hours." 

"The  volley  of  ice  must  be  almost  irresistible." 

"Almost,"  Murray  smiled.  "Not  quite.  Our 
ice-breakers  were  especially  designed  by  Parker  to 
withstand  any  weight.  There's  nothing  like  them 
anywhere.  In  fact,  there  will  be  nothing  like  this 
bridge  when  it's  completed." 

Elaine  offered  no  comment,  but  his  questions 
searched  to  the  depths  of  the  builder's  knowledge. 
When  they  were  back  in  camp  he  said : 

"Of  course  you  know  why  I'm  here?" 

"Your  card  told  me  that,  but  I  don't  need  the 
Heidlemanns  now." 

"We  are  prepared  to  reopen  negotiations." 

"Why?" 

"My  people  are  human;  they  have  feelings.  You 
read  Gordon's  lies  about  us  and  about  that  fight  at 
Beaver  Canon?  Well,  we're  used  to  abuse,  and  op 
position  of  a  kind  we  respect ;  but  that  man  stirred 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

public  opinion  to  such  a  point  that  there's  no  further 
use  of  heeding  it.  We're  ready  to  proceed  with  our 
plans  now,  and  the  public  can  go  to  the  devil  till  it 
understands  us  better.  We  have  several  men  in 
jail  at  Cortez,  charged  with  murder:  it  will  cost  us 
a  fortune  to  free  the  poor  fellows.  First  the  Heidle- 
manns  were  thieves  and  grafters  and  looters  of  the 
public  domain;  now  they  have  become  assassins! 
If  this  route  to  the  interior  proves  feasible,  well  and 
good;  if  not,  we'll  resume  work  at  Cortez  next 
spring.  Kyak,  of  course,  is  out  of  the  question." 

"This  route  depends  upon  the  bridge." 

"Exactly." 

"It's  a  two  years'  job." 

"You  offered  to  complete  it  this  winter,  when 
you  talked  with  Mr.  Herman  Heidlemann." 

"And— I  can." 

"Then  we'll  consider  a  reasonable  price.  But  we 
must  know  definitely  where  we  stand  by  next  spring. 
We  have  a  great  deal  of  capital  tied  up  in  the 
interior;  we  can't  wait." 

"This  delay  will  cost  you  something." 

Mr.  Elaine  shrugged.  "You  made  that  point 
plain  when  you  were  in  New  York.  We're  accus 
tomed  to  pay  for  our  mistakes." 

"Will  you  cover  this  in  the  shape  of  an  option?" 

"That's  what  I'm  here  for.  If  you  finish  your 
bridge  and  it  stands  the  spring  break-up,  we'll  be 
satisfied.  I  shall  expect  to  stay  here  and  watch 
the  work." 

O'Neil  agreed  heartily.  "You're  very  welcome, 
Mr.  Elaine.  I  like  your  brand  of  conversation.  I 
build  railroads;  I  don't  run  them.  Now  let's  get 
down  to  figures." 

320 


PLAYING   THE    HAZARD 

The  closing  of  the  option  required  several  weeks, 
of  course,  but  the  outcome  was  that  even  before  mid 
winter  arrived  O'Neil  found  himself  in  the  position 
he  had  longed  to  occupy.  In  effect  the  sale  was 
made,  and  on  terms  which  netted  him  and  his  back 
ers  one  hundred  per  cent,  profit.  There  was  but  one 
proviso — namely,  that  the  bridge  should  be  built 
by  spring.  The  Heidlemanns  were  impatient,  their 
investment  up  to  date  had  been  heavy,  and  they 
frankly  declared  that  failure  to  bridge  the  chasm  on 
time  would  convince  them  that  the  task  was  hope 
less.  In  a  way  this  was  unreasonable,  but  O'Neil 
was  well  aware  that  they  could  not  permit  delay — 
or  a  third  failure:  unless  his  route  was  proved  feas 
ible  without  loss  of  time  they  would  abandon  it  for 
one  they  knew  to  be  certain,  even  though  more 
expensive.  He  did  not  argue  that  the  task  was  of 
unprecedented  difficulty,  for  he  had  made  his  prom 
ise  and  was  ready  to  stand  or  fall  by  it.  It  is  doubt 
ful,  however,  if  any  other  contractor  would  have 
undertaken  the  work  on  such  time;  in  fact,  had  it 
been  a  public  bridge  it  would  have  required  four 
years  in  the  building.  Yet  O'Neil  cheerfully  staked 
his  fortune  on  completing  it  in  eight  months. 

With  his  option  signed  and  the  task  squarely 
confronting  him,  he  realized  with  fresh  force  its 
bigness  and  the  weight  of  responsibility  that  rested 
upon  his  shoulders.  He  began  the  most  dramatic 
struggle  of  his  career,  a  fight  against  untried  condi 
tions,  a  desperate  race  against  the  seasons,  with 
ruin  as  the  penalty  of  defeat. 

The  channel  of  the  Salmon  at  this  point  is  fifteen 
hundred  feet  wide  and  thirty  feet  deep.  Through  it 
boils  a  ten-mile  current ;  in  other  words,  the  waters 

321 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

race  by  with  the  speed  of  a  running  man.  Over  this 
O'Neil  expected  to  suspend  a  structure  capable  of 
withstanding  the  mightiest  strains  to  which  any 
bridge  had  ever  been  subjected.  Parker's  plans 
called  for  seventeen  thousand  yards  of  cement  work 
and  nine  million  pounds  of  steel,  every  part  of  which 
must  be  fabricated  to  a  careful  pattern.  It  was  a 
man-sized  job,  and  O'Neil  was  thankful  that  he 
had  prepared  so  systematically  for  the  work;  that  he 
had  gathered  his  materials  with  such  extraordinary 
care.  Supplies  were  arriving  now  in  car-loads,  in 
train-loads,  in  ship-loads:  from  Seattle,  from  Van 
couver,  from  far  Pittsburg  they  came  in  a  thin 
continuous  stream,  any  interruption  of  which  meant 
confusion  and  serious  loss  of  time.  The  movement 
of  this  vast  tonnage  required  the  ceaseless  attention 
of  a  corps  of  skilled  men. 

He  had  personally  directed  affairs  up  to  this  point, 
but  he  now  obliterated  himself,  and  the  leadership 
devolved  upon  two  others — Parker,  small,  smiling, 
gentle-mannered;  Mellen,  tall,  angular,  saturnine. 
Upon  them,  engineer  and  bridge-builder,  O'Neil 
rested  his  confidence,  serene  in  the  knowledge  that 
of  all  men  they  were  the  ablest  in  their  lines.  As 
for  himself,  he  had  all  he  could  do  to  bring  materials 
to  them  and  to  keep  the  long  supply-trail  open. 
Long  it  was,  indeed;  for  the  shortest  haul  was  from 
Seattle,  twelve  hundred  miles  away,  and  the  steel 
bridge  members  came  from  Pennsylvania. 

The  piers  at  Omar  groaned  beneath  the  cargoes 
that  were  belched  from  the  big  freighters — inci 
dentally,  ''Happy  Tom"  Slater  likewise  groaned 
beneath  his  burdens  as  superintendent  of  trans 
portation.  At  the  glaciers  a  city  as  large  as  Omar 

322 


PLAYING   THE    HAZARD 

sprang  up,  a  city  with  electric  lights,  power-houses, 
machine  shops,  freight  yards,  and  long  rows  of  winter 
quarters.  It  lay  behind  ramparts  of  coal,  of  grillage 
timbers  and  piling,  of  shedded  cement  barrels,  and 
tons  of  steel.  Over  it  the  winter  snows  sifted,  the 
north  winds  howled,  and  the  arctic  cold  deepened. 
Here,  locked  in  a  mountain  fastness  more  than  a 
thousand  miles  from  his  base  of  supplies,  O'Neil 
began  the  decisive  struggle  of  his  life.  Here,  at  the 
focusing  point  of  his  enterprise,  in  the  white  heat 
of  the  battle,  he  spent  his  time,  heedless  of  every 
other  interest  or  consideration.  The  shifts  were 
lengthened,  wages  were  increased,  a  system  of  bo 
nuses  was  adopted.  Only  picked  men  were  given 
places,  but  of  these  there  were  hundreds :  over  them 
the  grim-faced  Mellen  brooded,  with  the  fevered 
eye  of  a  fanatic  and  a  tongue  of  flame.  Wherever 
possible  the  men  were  sheltered,  and  steam-pipes 
were  run  to  guard  against  the  cold ;  but  most  of  the 
labor  was,  of  necessity,  performed  in  the  open  and 
under  trying  conditions.  At  times  the  wind  blew  a 
hurricane;  always  there  was  the  bitter  cold.  Men 
toiled  until  their  flesh  froze  and  their  tools  slipped 
from  their  fingers,  then  dragged  themselves  stiffly 
into  huts  and  warmed  themselves  for  further  effort. 
They  worked  amid  a  boiling  snow-smother  that  hid 
them  from  view,  while  gravel  and  fine  ice  cut  their 
faces  like  knives;  or  again,  on  still,  sharp  days,  when 
the  touch  of  metal  was  like  the  bite  of  fangs  and 
echoes  filled  the  valley  to  the  brim  with  an  empty 
clanging.  But  they  were  no  ordinary  fellows — no 
chaff,  to  drift  with  the  wind:  they  were  men  tough 
ened  by  exposure  to  the  breath  of  the  north,  men 
winnowed  out  from  many  thousands  of  their  kind. 

323 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

Nor  were  they  driven:  they  were  led.  Mellen  was 
among  them  constantly;  so  was  the  soft- voiced, 
smiling  Parker,  not  to  mention  O'Neil  with  his 
cheery  laugh  and  his  words  of  praise.  Yet  often  it 
was  hard  to  keep  the  work  moving  at  all;  for  steam 
condensed  in  the  cylinders,  valves  froze  unless  con 
stantly  operated,  pipes  were  kept  open  only  by  the 
use  of  hot  cloths:  then,  too,  the  snow  crept  upward 
steadily,  stealthily,  until  it  lay  in  heavy  drifts  which 
nearly  hid  the  little  town  and  changed  the  streets 
to  miniature  canons. 

Out  of  this  snow-smothered,  frost-bound  valley 
there  was  but  one  trail.  The  army  lay  encamped 
in  a  cul  de  sac;  all  that  connected  it  with  the  outside 
world  were  two  slender  threads  of  steel.  To  keep 
them  clear  of  snow  was  in  itself  a  giant's  task;  for 
as  yet  there  were  no  snow-sheds,  and  in  many  places 
the  construction-trains  passed  through  deep  cuts 
between  solid  walls  of  white.  Every  wind  filled 
these  level  and  threatened  to  seal  the  place  fast; 
but  furiously  the  ' Notaries"  attacked  the  choking 
mass,  slowly  it  was  whirled  aside,  and  onward 
flowed  that  steady  stream  of  supplies.  No  army 
of  investment  was  ever  in  such  constant  peril  of 
being  cut  off.  For  every  man  engaged  in  the  attack 
there  was  another  behind  him  fighting  back  the 
allied  forces  which  swept  down  from  either  hand. 

Only  those  who  know  that  far  land  in  her  sterner 
moods  can  form  any  conception  of  the  stupefying 
effect  of  continuous,  unbroken  cold.  There  is  a 
point  beyond  which  the  power  of  reaction  ceases: 
where  the  human  mind  and  body  recoils  uncon 
trollably  from  exposure,  and  where  the  most  robust 
effort  results  in  a  spiritless  inactivity.  It  is  then 

324 


PLAYING   THE    HAZARD 

that  efficiency  is  cut  in  half,  then  cut  again.  And 
of  all  the  terrors  of  the  Arctic  there  is  none  so  com 
pelling  as  the  wind.  It  is  a  monstrous,  deathly 
thing,  a  creature  that  has  life  and  preys  upon  the 
agony  of  men.  There  are  regions  sheltered  from  it, 
of  course;  but  in  the  gutters  which  penetrate  the 
mountain  ranges  it  lurks  with  constant  menace,  and 
of  all  the  coast  from  Sitka  westward  the  valley  of  the 
Salmon  is  the  most  evil. 

In  the  throat  of  this  mighty-mouthed  funnel, 
joining  the  still,  abysmal  cold  of  the  interior  with  the 
widely  varying  temperatures  of  the  open  sea,  O' Neil's 
band  was  camped,  and  there  the  great  hazard  was 
played.  Under  such  conditions  it  was  fortunate 
indeed  that  he  had  field-marshals  like  Parker  and 
Mellen,  for  no  single  man  could  have  triumphed. 
Parker  was  cautious,  brilliant,  far-sighted;  he  reduced 
the  battle  to  paper,  he  blue-printed  it;  with  sliding- 
rule  he  analyzed  it  into  inches  and  pounds  and 
stresses  and  strains:  Mellen  was  like  a  grim  Hanni 
bal,  tireless,  cunning,  cold,  and  he  wove  steel  in  his 
fingers  as  a  woman  weaves  her  thread. 

It  was  a  remarkable  alliance,  a  triumvirate  of  its 
kind  unsurpassed.  As  the  weeks  crept  into  months 
it  worked  an  engineering  marvel. 


XXIII 

A   NEW   CRISIS 

WITH  the  completion  of  the  railroad  to  the 
glacier  crossing  there  came  to  it  a  certain 
amount  of  travel,  consisting  mainly  of  prospectors 
bound  to  and  from  the  interior.  The  Cortez  winter 
trail  was  open,  and  over  it  passed  most  of  the  traffic 
from  the  northward  mining  -  camps,  but  now  and 
then  a  frost-rimed  stranger  emerged  from  the  ca 
non  above  O' Neil's  terminus  with  tales  of  the  gold 
country,  or  a  venturesome  sledge  party  snow-shoed 
its  way  inland  from  the  end  of  the  track.  Murray 
made  a  point  of  hauling  these  trailers  on  his  con 
struction-trains  and  of  feeding  them  in  his  camps 
as  freely  as  he  did  his  own  men.  In  time  the  waver 
ing  line  of  sled- tracks  became  fairly  well  broken, 
and  scarcely  a  week  passed  without  bringing  several 
"mushers." 

One  day,  as  O'Neil  was  picking  his  way  through 
the  outskirts  of  the  camp,  he  encountered  one  of  his 
night  foremen,  and  was  surprised  to  see  that  the 
fellow  was  leading  a  trail-dog  by  a  chain.  Now 
these  malamutes  are  as  much  a  part  of  the  northland 
as  the  winter  snows,  and  they  are  a  common  sight 
in  every  community;  but  the  man's  patent  embar 
rassment  challenged  Murray's  attention :  he  acted  as  if 
he  had  been  detected  in  a  theft  or  a  breach  of  duty. 

326 


A   NEW   CRISIS 

11  Hello,  Walsh.  Been  buying  some  live  stock?*' 
O'Neil  inquired. 

"Yes,  sir.     I  picked  up  this  dog  cheap. " 

"Harness  too,  eh?"  Murray  noted  that  Walsh's 
arms  were  full  of  gear — enough,  indeed,  for  a  full 
team.  Knowing  that  the  foreman  owned  no  dogs, 
he  asked,  half  banteringly: 

"You're  not  getting  ready  for  a  trip,  I  hope?" 

"No,  sir.  Not  exactly,  sir.  The  dog  was  cheap, 
so  I — I  just  bought  him." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  dogs  were  not  cheap,  and 
Walsh  should  have  been  in  bed  at  this  hour.  Murray 
walked  on  wondering  what  the  fellow  could  be  up  to. 

Later  he  came  upon  a  laborer  dickering  with  a 
Kyak  Indian  over  the  price  of  a  fur  robe,  and  in 
front  of  a  bunk-house  he  found  other  members  of 
the  night  crew  talking  earnestly  with  two  lately 
arrived  strangers.  They  fell  silent  as  he  approached, 
and  responded  to  his  greeting  with  a  peculiar  nervous 
eagerness,  staring  after  him  curiously  as  he  passed  on. 

He  expected  Dr.  Gray  out  from  Omar,  but  as  he 
neared  the  track  he  met  Mellen.  The  bridge  super 
intendent  engaged  him  briefly  upon  some  detail, 
then  said : 

"I  don't  know  what's  the  matter  with  the  men 
this  morning.  They're  loafing." 

"Loafing?     Nonsense!     You  expect  too  much." 

Mellen  shook  his  head.  "The  minute  my  back  is 
turned  they  begin  to  gossip.  I've  had  to  call  them 
down." 

"Perhaps  they  want  a  holiday." 

"They're  not  that  kind.  There's  something  in 
the  air." 

While  they  were  speaking  the  morning  train 
327 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

pulled  in,  and  O'Neil  was  surprised  to  see  at  least  a 
dozen  townspeople  descending  from  it.  They  were 
loafers,  saloon-frequenters,  for  the  most  pan.,  and, 
oddly  enough,  they  had  with  them  dogs  and  sleds 
and  all  the  equipment  for  travel.  He  was  pre 
vented  from  making  inquiry,  however,  by  a  shout 
from  Dr.  Gray,  who  cried: 

1 '  Hey,  Chief !     Look  who's  here !" 

O'Neil  hastened  forward  with  a  greeting  upon  his 
lips,  for  Stanley  was  helping  Eliza  and  Natalie  down 
from  the  caboose  which  served  as  a  passenger-coach. 

The  young  women,  becomingly  clad  in  their  warm 
winter  furs,  made  a  picture  good  to  look  upon. 
Natalie  had  ripened  wonderfully  since  her  marriage, 
and  added  to  her  rich  dark  beauty  there  was  now  an 
elusive  sweetness,  a  warmth  and  womanliness  which 
had  been  lacking  before.  As  for  Eliza,  she  l^ad  never 
appeared  more  sparkling,  more  freshly  wholesome 
and  saucy  than  on  this  morning. 

"We  came  to  take  pictures,"  she  announced. 
"We  want  to  see  if  the  bridge  suits  us." 

"Don't  you  believe  her,  Mr.  O'Neil,"  said  Natalie. 
"Dan  told  us  you  were  working  too  hard,  so  Eliza 
insisted  on  taking  you  in  hand.  I'm  here  merely 
in  the  office  of  chaperon  and  common  scold.  You 
have  been  overdoing.  You're  positively  haggard." 

Gray  nodded.  ' '  He  won't  mind  me.  I  hope  you'll 
abuse  him  well.  Go  at  him  hammer  and  tongs." 

Ignoring  Murray's  smiling  assertion  that  he  was 
the  only  man  in  camp  who  really  suffered  from  idle 
ness,  the  girls  pulled  him  about  and  examined  him 
critically,  then  fell  to  discussing  him  as  if  he  were 
not  present. 

"He's  worn  to  the  bone,"  said  Eliza. 

3*8 


A   NEW    CRISIS 

''Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  his  wrinkles? 
He  looks  like  a  dried  apple,"  Natalie  declared. 

"Dan  says  he  doesn't  eat." 

"  Probably  he's  too  busy  to  chew  his  food.  We'll 
make  him  Fletcherize— 

"And  eat  soup.  Then  well  mend  his  under 
clothes.  I'll  warrant  he  doesn't  dress  properly." 

"How  much  sleep  does  he  get?"  Natalie  queried  of 
the  physician. 

"About  half  as  much  as  he  needs." 

"Leave  him  to  us,"  said  Eliza,  grimly.  "Now 
where  does  he  live?  We'll  start  in  there." 

O'Neil  protested  faintly.  "Please  don't!  I  hate 
soup,  and  I  can't  allow  anybody  to  pry  into  my 
wardrobe.  It  won't  stand  inspection." 

Miss  Appleton  pointed  to  his  feet  and  asked, 
crisply : 

"How  many  pairs  of  socks  do  you  wear?" 

"One." 

"Any  holes?" 

"Sometimes." 

Natalie  was  shocked.  "One  pair  of  socks  in  this 
cold!  It's  time  we  took  a  hand.  Now  lead  us  to 
this  rabbit-hole  where  you  live." 

Reluctantly,  yet  with  an  unaccustomed  warmth 
about  his  heart,  O'Neil  escorted  them  to  his  head 
quarters.  It  was  a  sharp,  clear  morning;  the  sky 
was  as  empty  and  bright  as  an  upturned  saucepan; 
against  it  the  soaring  mountain  peaks  stood  out  as 
if  carved  from  new  ivory.  The  glaciers  to  right  and 
left  were  mute  and  motionless  in  the  grip  of  that 
force  which  alone  had  power  to  check  them;  the 
turbulent  river  was  hidden  beneath  a  case-hardened 
armor;  the  lake,  with  its  weird  flotilla  of  revolving 
22  329 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

bergs,  was  matted  with  a  broad  expanse  of  white, 
across  which  meandered  dim  sled  and  snow-shoe 
trails.  Underfoot  the  paths  gave  out  a  crisp  com 
plaint,  the  sunlight  slanting  up  the  valley  held  no 
warmth  whatever,  and  their  breath  hung  about  their 
heads  like  vapor,  crystallizing  upon  the  fur  of  their 
caps  and  hoods. 

O'Neil's  living-quarters  consisted  of  a  good-sized 
room  adjoining  the  office-building.  Pausing  at  the 
door,  he  told  his  visitors : 

"I'm  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  but  your  zeal  is 
utterly  misplaced.  I  live  like  a  pasha,  in  the  midst 
of  debilitating  luxuries,  as  you  will  see  for  yourselves." 
He  waved  them  proudly  inside. 

The  room  was  bare,  damp,  and  chill;  it  was  fur 
nished  plentifully,  but  it  was  in  characteristically 
masculine  disorder.  The  bed  was  tumbled,  the 
stove  was  half  filled  with  cold  ashes,  the  water 
pitcher  on  the  washstand  had  frozen.  In  one  corner 
was  a  heap  of  damp  clothing,  now  stiff  with  frost. 

"Of  course,  it's  a  little  upset,"  he  apologized. 
"I  wasn't  expecting  callers,  you  know." 

"When  was  it  made  up  last?"  Eliza  inquired,  a 
little  weakly. 

"Yesterday,  of  course." 
'Are  you  sure?" 

"Now,  see  here,"  he  said,  firmly;  "I  haven't 
time  to  make  beds,  and  everybody  else  is  busier 
than  I  am.  I'm  not  in  here  enough  to  make  it  worth 
while — I  go  to  bed  late,  and  I  tumble  out  before 
dawn." 

The  girls  exchanged  meaning  glances.  Eliza  be 
gan  to  lay  off  her  furs. 

"Not  bad,  is  it?"  he  said,  hopefully. 
330 


A   NEW    CRISIS 

Natalie  picked  up  the  discarded  clothing,  which 
crackled  stiffly  under  her  touch  and  parted  from  the 
bare  boards  with  a  tearing  sound. 

"Frozen!     The  idea!"  said  she. 

Eliza  poked  among  the  other  garments  which 
hung  against  the  wall  and  found  them  also  rigid. 
The  nail-heads  behind  them  were  coated  with  ice. 
Turning  to  the  table,  with  its  litter  of  papers  and 
the  various  unclassified  accumulation  of  a  bachelor's 
house,  she  said: 

"I  suppose  we'll  have  to  leave  this  as  it  is." 

"Just  leave  everything.  I'll  get  a  man  to  clean 
up  while  you  take  pictures  of  the  bridge."  As 
Natalie  began  preparing  for  action  he  queried,  in 
surprise,  "Don't  you  like  my  little  home?" 

"It's  awful,"  the  bride  answered,  feelingly. 

"A  perfect  bear's  den,"  Eliza  agreed.  "It  will 
take  us  all  day." 

"It's  just  the  way  I  like  it,"  he  told  them;  but 
they  resolutely  banished  him  and  locked  the  door 
in  his  face. 

1 1  Hey !  I  don't  want  my  things  all  mussed  up, ' '  he 
called,  pounding  for  readmittance ;  "I  know  right 
where  everything  is,  and — "  The  door  opened,  out 
came  an  armful  of  papers,  a  shower  of  burnt  matches, 
and  a  litter  of  trash  from  his  work-table.  He  groaned. 
Eliza  showed  her  countenance  for  a  moment  to 
say: 

' '  Now,  run  away,  little  boy.  You're  going  to  have 
your  face  washed,  no  matter  how  you  cry.  When 
we've  finished  in  here  we'll  attend  to  you."  The 
door  slammed  once  more,  and  he  went  away  shaking 
his  head. 

At  lunch-time  they  grudgingly  admitted  him,  and, 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

although  they  protested  that  they  were  not  half 
through,  he  was  naively  astonished  at  the  change 
they  had  brought  to  pass.  For  the  first  time  in 
many  days  the  place  was  thoroughly  warm  and  dry; 
it  likewise  displayed  an  orderliness  and  comfort  to 
which  it  had  been  a  stranger.  From  some  obscure 
source  the  girls  had  gathered  pictures  for  the  bare 
walls;  they  had  hung  figured  curtains  at  the  win 
dows;  there  were  fresh  white  covers  for  bed,  bureau, 
and  washstand.  His  clothes  had  been  rearranged, 
and  posted  in  conspicuous  places  were  written  direc 
tions  telling  him  of  their  whereabouts.  One  of  the 
cards  bore  these  words:  "Your  soup!  Take  one  in 
cup  of  hot  brandy  and  water  before  retiring." 
Beneath  were  a  bottle  and  a  box  of  bouillon  tablets. 
A  shining  tea-kettle  was  humming  on  the  stove. 

"This  is  splendid,"  he  agreed,  when  they  had 
completed  a  tour  of  inspection.  "But  where  are 
my  blue-prints?" 

"In  the  drafting-room,  where  they  belong.  This 
room  is  for  rest  and  sleep.  We  want  to  see  it  in 
this  condition  when  we  come  back." 

"Where  did  you  find  the  fur  rug?"  He  indicated 
a  thick  bearskin  beside  the  bed. 

"We  stole  it  from  Mr.  Parker,"  they  confessed, 
shamelessly.  "He  had  two." 

Eliza  continued  complacently:  "We  nearly  came 
to  blows  with  the  chef  when  we  kidnapped  his  best 
boy.  We've  ordered  him  to  keep  this  place  warm 
and  look  after  your  clothes  and  clean  up  every 
morning.  He's  to  be  your  valet  and  take  care  of 
you." 

"But — we're  dreadfully  short-handed  in  the  mess- 
house,"  O'Neil  protested. 

332 


A   NEW    CRISIS 

"We've  given  the  chef  your  bill  of  fare,  and  your 
man  Ben  will  see  that  you  eat  it." 

"I  won't  stand  for  soup.     It— 

"Hush!  Do  you  want  us  to  come  again?" 
Natalie  demanded. 

' '  Yes !  Again  and  again !"  He  nodded  vigorously. 
"I  dare  say  I  was  getting  careless.  I  pay  more 
attention  to  the  men's  quarters  than  to  my  own. 
Do  you  know — this  is  the  first  hint  of  home  I've 
had  since  I  was  a  boy  ?  And — it 's  mighty  agreeable. ' ' 
He  stared  wistfully  at  the  feminine  touches  on  all 
sides. 

The  bride  settled  herself  with  needle  and  thread, 
saying : 

"Now  take  Eliza  to  the  bridge  while  the  light  is 
good;  she  wants  to  snap-shoot  it.  I'm  going  to 
sew  on  buttons  and  enjoy  myself." 

O'Neil  read  agreement  in  Eliza's  eyes,  and  obeyed. 
As  they  neared  the  river-bank  the  girl  exclaimed  in 
surprise;  for  up  out  of  the  frozen  Salmon  two  giant 
towers  of  concrete  thrust  themselves,  on  each  bank 
were  massive  abutments,  and  connecting  them  were 
the  beginnings  of  a  complicated  "false-work"  struc 
ture  by  means  of  which  the  steel  was  to  be  laid  in 
place.  It  consisted  of  rows  upon  rows  of  piling, 
laced  together  with  an  intricate  pattern  of  squared 
timbers.  Tracks  were  being  laid  upon  it,  and  along 
the  rails  ran  a  towering  movable  crane,  or  "traveler," 
somewhat  like  a  tremendous  cradle.  This  too  was 
nearing  completion.  Pile-drivers  were  piercing  the 
ice  with  long  slender  needles  of  spruce;  across  the 
whole  river  was  weaving  a  gigantic  fretwork  of  wood 
which  appeared  to  be  geometrically  regular  in  design. 
The  air  was  noisy  with  the  cries  of  men,  and  a 

333 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

rhythmic  thudding,  through  which  came  the  rattle 
of  winches  and  the  hiss  of  steam.  Over  the  whole 
vast  structure  swarmed  an  army  of  human  ants, 
feeble  pygmy  figures  that  crept  slowly  here  and 
there,  regardless  of  their  dizzy  height. 

"Isn't  it  beautiful?"  said  the  builder,  gazing  at 
the  scene  with  kindling  eyes.  "We're  breaking 
records  every  day  in  spite  of  the  weather.  Those 
fellows  are  heroes.  I  feel  guilty  and  mean  when  I 
see  them  risking  life  and  limb  while  I  just  walk  about 
and  look  on." 

"Will  it — really  stand  the  break-up?"  asked  the 
girl.  "When  that  ice  goes  out  it  will  be  as  if  the 
solid  earth  were  sliding  down  the  channel.  It 
frightens  me  to  think  of  it." 

"We've  built  solid  rock;  in  fact,  those  piers  are 
stronger  than  rock,  for  they're  laced  with  veins  of 
steel  and  anchored  beneath  the  river-bed." 

But  Eliza  doubted.  "I've  seen  rivers  break, 
and  it's  frightful;  but  of  course  I've  never  seen 
anything  to  compare  with  the  Salmon.  Suppose — 
just  suppose  there  should  be  some  weak  spot — " 

O'Neil  settled  his  shoulders  a  little  under  his  coat. 
"It  would  nearly  kill  Mellen — and  Parker,  too,  for 
that  matter." 

"And  you?" 

He  hesitated.  "It  means  a  great  deal  to  me. 
Sometimes  I  think  I  could  pull  myself  together  and 
begin  again,  but — I'm  getting  old,  and  I'm  not  sure 
I'd  care  to  try."  After  a  pause  he  added  a  little 
stiffly,  as  if  not  quite  sure  of  the  effect  of  his  words : 
"That's  the  penalty  of  being  alone  in  life,  I  suppose. 
We  men  are  grand-stand  players:  we  need  an  audi 
ence,  some  one  person  who  really  cares  whether  we 

334 


A   NEW   CRISIS 

succeed  or  fail.  Your  brother,  for  instance,  has  won 
more  in  the  building  of  the  S.  R.  &  N.  than  I  can 
ever  hope  to  win." 

Eliza  felt  a  trifle  conscious,  too,  and  she  did 
not  look  at  him  when  she  said :  ' '  Poor,  lonely 
old  Omar  Khayyam !  You  deserve  all  Dan  has. 
I  think  I  understand  why  you  haven't  been  to 
see  us." 

"I've  been  too  busy;  this  thing  has  kept  me  here 
every  hour.  It's  my  child,  and  one  can't  neglect 
his  own  child,  you  know — even  if  it  isn't  a  real  one." 
He  laughed  apologetically.  "  See!  there's  where  we 
took  the  skirl  that  day  we  ran  Jackson  Glacier. 
He's  harmless  enough  now.  You  annoyed  me  dread 
fully  that  morning,  Eliza,  and — I've  never  quite 
understood  why  you  were  so  reckless." 

"I  wanted  the  sensation.  Writers  have  to  live 
before  they  can  write.  I've  worked  the  experience 
into  my  novel." 

"Indeed?    What  is  your  book  about?" 

"Well — it's  the  story  of  a  railroad-builder,  of  a 
fellow  who  risked  everything  he  had  on  his  own 
judgment.  It 's— you !' ' 

"Why,  my  dear!"  cried  O'Neil,  turning  upon  her  a 
look  of  almost  comic  surprise.  "I'm  flattered,  of 
course,  but  there's  nothing  romantic  or  uncommon 
about  me." 

"You  don't  mind?" 

"Of  course  not.  But  there  ought  to  be  a  hero, 
and  love,  and — such  things — in  a  novel.  You  must 
have  a  tremendous  imagination." 

"Perhaps.  I'm  not  writing  a  biography,  you 
know.  However,  you  needn't  be  alarmed;  it  will 
never  be  accepted." 

335 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"It  should  be,  for  you  write  well.  Your  magazine 
articles  are  bully." 

Eliza  smiled.  "If  the  novel  would  only  go  as 
well  as  those  stories  I'd  be  happy.  They  put 
Gordon  on  the  defensive." 

"I  knew  they  would." 

"Yes.  I  built  a  nice  fire  under  him,  and  now  he's 
squirming.  I  think  I  helped  you  a  little  bit,  too." 

"Indeed  you  did — a  great  deal!  When  you  came 
to  Omar  I  never  thought  you'd  turn  out  to  be  my 
champion.  I — "  He  turned  as  Dr.  Gray  came 
hurrying  toward  them,  panting  in  his  haste. 

The  doctor  began  abruptly: 

"I've  been  looking  for  you,  Murray.  The  men 
are  all  quitting." 

O'Neil  started.  "All  quitting?  What  are  you 
talking  about?" 

"There's  a  stampede — a  gold  stampede!" 

Murray  stared  at  the  speaker  as  if  doubting  his 
own  senses. 

"There's  no  gold  around  here,"  he  said,  at  last. 

"Two  men  came  in  last  night.  They've  been 
prospecting  over  in  the  White  River  and  report  rich 
quartz.  They've  got  samples  with  'em  and  say  there 
are  placer  indications  everywhere.  They  were  on 
their  way  to  Omar  to  tell  their  friends,  and  tele 
phoned  in  from  here.  Somebody  overheard  and — 
it  leaked.  The  whole  camp  is  up  in  the  air.  That's 
what  brought  out  that  gang  from  town  this  morn 
ing." 

The  significance  of  the  incidents  which  had  trou 
bled  him  earlier  in  the  day  flashed  upon  O'Neil; 
it  was  plain  enough  now  why  his  men  had  been 
gossiping  and  buying  dogs  and  fur  robes.  He 

336 


A   NEW    CRISIS 

understood  only  too  well  what  a  general  stampede 
would  mean  to  his  plans,  for  it  would  take  months 
to  replace  these  skilled  iron-workers. 

"Who  are  these  prospectors?"  he  inquired,  curtly. 

1  *  Nobody  seems  to  know.  Their  names  are  Thorn 
and  Baker.  That  gang  from  Omar  has  gone  on, 
and  our  people  will  follow  in  the  morning.  Those 
who  can't  scrape  up  an  outfit  here  are  going  into 
town  to  equip.  We  won't  have  fifty  men  on  the 
job  by  to-morrow  night." 

"What  made  Baker  and  Thorn  stop  here?" 

Gray  shrugged.  "Tired  out,  perhaps.  We've 
got  to  do  something  quick,  Murray.  Thank  God, 
we  don't  have  to  sell  'em  grub  or  haul  'em  to  Omar. 
That  will  check  things  for  a  day  or  two.  If  they 
ever  start  for  the  interior  we're  lost,  but  the  cataract 
isn't  frozen  over,  and  there's  only  one  sled  trail 
past  it.  We  don't  need  more  than  six  good  men  to 
do  the  trick." 

"We  can't  stop  a  stampede  that  way." 

Dr.  Gray's  face  fell  into  harsh  lines.  "I'll  bend  a 
Winchester  over  the  first  man  who  tries  to  pass. 
Appleton  held  the  place  last  summer;  I'll  guarantee 
to  do  it  now." 

"No.  The  men  have  a  right  to  quit,  Stanley. 
We  can't  force  them  to  work.  We  can't  build  this 
bridge  with  a  chain-gang." 

"Humph!  I  can  beat  up  these  two  prospectors 
and  ship  'em  in  to  the  hospital  until  things  cool 
down." 

"That  won't  do,  either.  I'll  talk  with  them,  and 
if  their  story  is  right — well,  I'll  throw  open  the 
commissary  and  outfit  every  one." 

Eliza  gasped;  Gray  stammered. 

337 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

"You're  crazy!"  exclaimed  the  doctor. 

"If  it's  a  real  stampede  they'll  go  anyhow,  so  we 
may  as  well  take  our  medicine  with  a  good  grace. 
The  loss  of  even  a  hundred  men  would  cripple  us." 

"The  camp  is  seething.  It's  all  Mellen  can  do 
to  keep  the  day  shift  at  work.  If  you  talk  to  'em 
maybe  they'll  listen  to  you." 

"Argument  won't  sway  them.  This  isn't  a  strike; 
it's  a  gold  rush."  He  turned  toward  the  town. 

Eliza  was  speechless  with  dismay  as  she  hurried 
along  beside  him;  Gray  was  scowling  darkly  and 
muttering  anathemas;  O'Neil  himself  was  lost  in 
thought.  The  gravity  of  this  final  catastrophe  left 
no  tiling  to  be  said. 

Stanley  lost  little  time  in  bringing  the  two  miners 
to  the  office,  and  there,  for  a  half-hour,  Murray 
talked  with  them.  When  they  perceived  that  he 
was  disposed  to  treat  them  courteously  they  told 
their  story  in  detail  and  answered  his  questions  with 
apparent  honesty.  They  willingly  showed  him  their 
quartz  samples  and  retailed  the  hardships  they  had 
suffered. 

Gray  listened  impatiently  and  once  or  twice 
undertook  to  interpolate  some  question,  but  at  a 
glance  from  his  chief  he  desisted.  Nevertheless,  his 
long  fingers  itched  to  lay  hold  of  the  strangers  and 
put  an  end  to  this  tale  which  threatened  ruin.  His 
anger  grew  when  Murray  dismissed  them  with  every 
evidence  of  a  full  belief  in  their  words. 

"Now  that  the  news  is  out  and  my  men  are 
determined  to  quit,  I  want  everybody  to  have  an 
equal  chance,"  O'Neil  announced,  as  they  rose  to 
go.  "There's  bound  to  be  a  great  rush  and  a  lot 
of  stiff ering  —  maybe  some  deaths  —  so  I'm  going 

338 


A    NEW    CRISIS 

to  call  the  boys  together  and  have  you  talk  to 
them." 

Thorn  and  Baker  agreed  and  departed.  As  the 
door  closed  behind  them  Gray  exploded,  but  Murray 
checked  him  quickly,  saying  with  an  abrupt  change 
of  manner:  "Wait!  Those  fellows  are  lying!" 

Seizing  the  telephone,  he  rang  up  Dan  Appleton 
and  swiftly  made  known  the  situation.  Stanley 
could  hear  the  engineer's  startled  exclamation. 

"Get  the  cable  to  Cortez  as  quickly  as  you  can," 
O'Neil  was  saying.  '  *  You  have  friends  there,  haven't 
you?  Good!  He's  just  the  man,  for  he'll  have 
Gordon's  pay-roll.  Find  out  if  Joe  Thorn  and 
Henry  Baker  are  known,  and,  if  so,  who  they  are  and 
what  they've  been  doing  lately.  Get  it  quick,  un 
derstand?  Then  'phone  me."  He  slammed  the  re 
ceiver  upon  its  hook.  * '  That's  not  Alaskan  quartz, " 
he  said,  shortly;  "it  came  from  Nevada,  or  I'm 
greatly  mistaken.  Every  hard-rock  miner  carries 
specimens  like  those  in  his  kit." 

"You  think  Gordon—" 

"I  don't  know.  But  we've  got  rock-men  on  this 
job  who'll  recognize  ore  out  of  any  mine  they  ever 
worked  in.  Go  find  them,  then  come  back  here  and 
hold  the  line  open  for  Dan." 

"Suppose  he  can't  locate  these  fellows  in  Cortez?" 

"Then—    Let's  not  think  about  that." 


XXIV 


GORDON'S  FALL 


THE  news  of  O* Neil's  attitude  spread  quickly, 
and  excitement  grew  among  the  workmen.  Up 
through  the  chill  darkness  of  early  evening  they 
came  charging.  They  were  noisy  and  eager,  and 
when  the  gong  summoned  them  to  supper  they 
rushed  the  mess-house  in  boisterous  good  humor. 
No  attempt  was  made  to  call  out  the  night  crew: 
by  tacit  consent  its  members  were  allowed  to  mingle 
freely  with  their  fellows  and  plan  for  the  morrow's 
departure.  Some,  envious  of  the  crowd  from  Omar 
which  had  profited  by  an  early  start,  were  anxious 
to  be  gone  at  once,  but  the  more  sober-minded 
argued  that  the  road  to  White  River  was  so  long 
that  a  day's  advantage  would  mean  little  in  the  end, 
and  the  advance  party  would  merely  serve  to  break 
trail  for  those  behind. 

These  men,  be  it  said,  were  not  those  who  had 
struck,  earlier  in  the  season,  at  the  behest  of  Gordon's 
emissary,  Linn,  but  fellows  whose  loyalty  and 
industry  were  unquestioned.  Their  refusal  to  stam 
pede  at  the  first  news  was  proof  of  their  devotion, 
yet  any  one  who  has  lived  in  a  mining  community 
knows  that  no  loyalty  of  employee  to  employer  is 
strong  enough  to  withstand  for  long  the  feverish 
excitement  of  a  gold  rush.  These  bridge- workers 

340 


GORDON'S    FALL 

were  the  aristocracy  of  the  whole  force,  men  inured 
to  hardship  and  capable  of  extreme  sacrifice  in  the 
course  of  their  work;  but  they  were  also  independent 
Americans  who  believed  themselves  entitled  to  every 
reward  which  fortune  laid  in  their  paths.  For  this 
reason  they  were  even  harder  to  handle  than  the 
unskilled,  unimaginative  men  farther  down  the  line. 

Long  before  the  hour  when  O'Neil  appeared  the 
low-roofed  mess-house  was  crowded. 

Natalie  and  Eliza,  knowing  the  importance  of  this 
crisis,  refused  to  go  home,  and  begged  Murray  to 
let  them  attend  the  meeting.  Mr.  Elaine,  who  also 
felt  the  keenest  concern  in  the  outcome,  offered  to 
escort  them,  and  at  last  with  some  difficulty  he 
managed  to  wedge  them  inside  the  door,  where 
they  apprehensively  scanned  the  gathering. 

It  was  not  an  ideal  place  for  a  meeting  of  this 
size,  but  tables  and  benches  had  been  pushed  aside, 
and  into  the  space  thus  cleared  the  men  were  packed. 
Their  appearance  was  hardly  reassuring:  it  was  a 
brawny,  heavy-muscled  army  with  which  O'Neil  had 
to  deal — an  army  of  loud-voiced  toilers  whose  ways 
were  violent  and  whose  passions  were  quick.  Never 
theless,  the  two  girls  were  treated  with  the  greatest 
respect,  and  when  O'Neil  stepped  to  a  bench  and 
raised  himself  above  their  heads  his  welcome  was 
not  unduly  boisterous.  Outside,  the  night  was  clear 
and  cold;  inside  the  cramped  quarters  the  air  was 
hot  and  close  and  fetid. 

Murray  had  no  skill  as  a  public  speaker  in  the 
ordinary  sense;  he  attempted  no  oratorical  tricks, 
and  addressed  his  workmen  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone. 

"Boys,"  he  began,  "there  has  been  a  gold  strike 
at  the  head  of  the  White  River,  and  you  want  to  go. 

34i 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

I  don't  blame  you;  I'd  like  to  go  myself,  if  there's 
any  chance  to  make  money." 

"You're  all  right,  boss!"  shouted  some  one;  and  a 
general  laugh  attested  the  crowd's  relief  at  this 
acceptance  of  the  inevitable.  They  had  expected 
argument,  despite  the  contrary  assurances  they  had 
received. 

"Now  we  all  want  an  even  break.  We  want  to 
know  all  there  is  to  know,  so  that  a  few  fellows 
won't  have  the  advantage  of  the  rest.  The  strike 
is  three  hundred  miles  away;  it's  winter,  and — you 
know  what  that  means.  I  talked  with  Baker  and 
Thorn  this  afternoon.  I  want  them  to  tell  you  just 
what  they  told  me.  That's  why  I  called  this  meet 
ing.  If  you  decide  to  go  you  won't  have  to  waste 
time  going  to  Omar  after  your  outfits,  for  I'll  sell 
you  what  you  want  from  my  supplies.  And  I'll 
sell  at  cost." 

There  was  a  yell  of  approval,  a  cheer  for  the 
speaker;  then  came  calls  for  Baker  and  Thorn. 

The  two  miners  were  thrust  forward,  and  the 
embarrassed  Thorn,  who  had  acted  as  spokesman, 
was  boosted  to  a  table.  Under  Murray's  encourage 
ment  he  stammered  out  the  story  of  his  good  fortune, 
the  tale  running  straight  enough  to  fan  excitement 
into  a  blaze.  There  was  no  disposition  to  doubt, 
for  news  of  this  sort  is  only  too  sure  of  credence. 

When  the  speaker  had  finished,  O'Neil  inquired: 

"Are  you  an  experienced  quartz-miner?  Do  you 
know  ore  when  you  see  it?" 

"Sure!  I  worked  in  the  Jumbo,  at  Goldfield, 
Nevada,  up  to  last  year.  So  did  Baker." 

"When  did  you  go  into  the  White  River  country?" 

"August." 

342 


GORDON'S    FALL 

"How  did  you  go  in?" 

' '  We  packed  in.  -When  our  grub  ran  out,  we  killed 
our  horses  and  cached  the  meat  for  dog-feed." 

"Is  there  any  other  dog-feed  there?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Any  people?" 

"Not  a  soul.  The  country  is  open  to  the  first 
comers.  It's  a  fine-looking  country,  too:  we  seen 
quartz  indications  everywhere.  I  reckon  this  speaks 
for  itself."  Thorn  significantly  held  up  his  ore 
samples.  "We've  made  our  locations.  You  fellows 
is  welcome  to  the  rest.  First  come,  first  served." 

There  was  an  eager  scramble  for  the  specimens 
on  the  part  of  those  nearest  the  speaker.  After  a 
moment  Murray  asked  them : 

"Did  you  fellows  ever  see  any  rock  like  that?" 

One  of  his  workmen  answered : 

"/have." 

"Where?" 

"In  the  Jumbo,  at  Goldfield.  I  'high-graded* 
there  in  the  early  days." 

There  was  a  laugh  at  this.  Thorn  flushed  angrily. 
"Well,"  he  rejoined,  "we've  got  the  same  forma 
tion  over  there  in  the  White  River.  It's  just  like 
Goldfield.  It  '11  be  the  same  kind  of  a  camp,  too, 
when  the  news  gets  out." 

O'Neil  broke  in  smoothly,  to  say : 

"Most  of  our  fellows  have  no  dogs.  It  will  take 
them  three  weeks  to  cover  the  trail.  They'll  have 
to  spend  three  weeks  in  there,  then  three  weeks  more 
coming  out — over  two  months  altogether.  They 
can't  haul  enough  grub  to  do  them."  He  turned  to 
his  employees  and  said  gravely:  "You'd  better  think 
it  over,  boys.  Those  who  have  teams  can  make  it, 

343 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

but  the  rest  of  you  will  get  left.  Do  you  think  the 
chance  is  worth  all  that  work  and  suffering?" 

The  bridge- workers  shifted  uncomfortably  on  their 
feet.  Then  a  voice  exclaimed: 

"Don't  worry,  boss.     We'll  make  it  somehow." 

"Thorn  says  there's  nobody  over  there,"  Murray 
continued;  "but  that  seems  strange,  for  I  happen 
to  know  of  half  a  dozen  outfits  at  the  head  of  the 
White  River.  Jack  Dalton  has  had  a  gang  working 
there  for  four  years." 

Dalton  was  a  famous  character  in  the  north— one 
of  the  most  intrepid  of  the  early  pioneers — and  the 
mention  of  his  name  brought  a  hush.  A  large  part 
of  the  audience  realized  the  truth  of  O' Neil's  last 
statement,  yet  resented  having  it  thrust  upon  them. 
Thorn  and  Baker  were  scowling.  Gray  had  just 
entered  the  room  and  was  signaling  to  his  chief, 
and  O'Neil  realized  that  he  must  score  a  triumph 
quickly  if  he  wished  to  hold  the  attention  of  his  men. 
He  resumed  gravely: 

"If  this  strike  was  genuine  I  wouldn't  argue,  but — 
it  isn't."  A  confusion  of  startled  protests  rose;  the 
two  miners  burst  out  indignantly;  but  O'Neil,  raising 
his  voice  for  the  first  time,  managed  to  make  himself 
heard.  ' '  Those  jewelry  samples  came  from  Nevada, ' ' 
he  cried.  "I  recognized  them  myself  this  afternoon, 
and  here's  another  fellow  who  can't  be  fooled. 
Thorn  told  you  he  used  to  work  in  Goldfield.  You 
can  draw  your  own  conclusions." 

The  temper  of  the  crowd  changed  instantly :  jeers, 
groans,  hisses  arose ;  the  men  were  on  their  feet  now, 
and  growing  noisier  every  moment ;  Baker  and  Thorn 
were  glaring  balefully  at  their  accuser.  But  Gray 
succeeded  in  shouldering  his  way  forward,  and 

344 


GORDON'S    FALL 

whispered  to  O'Neil,  who  turned  suddenly  and  faced 
the  men  again. 

* '  Just  a  minute ! "  he  shouted.  * '  You  heard  Thorn 
say  he  and  Baker  went  prospecting  in  August. 
Well,  we've  just  had  Cortez  on  the  cable  and  learn 
that  they  were  working  for  Gordon  until  two  weeks 
ago/'  A  sudden  silence  fell.  Murray  smiled  down 
at  the  two  strangers.  "What  do  you  say  to  that?" 

Thorn  flew  into  a  purple  rage:  "It's  a  damned 
lie !  He's  afraid  you'll  quit  work,  fellows. ' '  Viciously 
he  flung  himself  toward  the  door,  only  to  feel  the 
grasp  of  the  muscular  physician  upon  his  arm. 

"Listen  to  this  message  from  the  cashier  of  the 
Cortez  Home  Bank!"  bellowed  Gray,  his  big  voice 
dominating  the  uproar.  Undisturbed  by  his  pris 
oner's  struggles,  he  read  loudly: 

"  Joe  Thorn  and  Henry  Baker  quit  work  fifteenth,  leaving 
for  Fairbanks  over  winter  trail,  with  five  dogs — four  gray  and 
white  malamutes,  black  shepherd  leader.  Thorn  medium  size, 
thirty-five,  red  hair.  Baker  dark,  scar  on  cheek. 

"WILSON,  Cashier." 

The  doctor's  features  spread  into  a  broad  grin. 
"You've  all  seen  the  dog-team,  and  here's  the  red 
hair."  His  ringers  sunk  into  his  prisoner's  fiery 
locks  with  a  grip  that  threatened  to  leave  him  a 
scalp  for  a  trophy.  Thorn  cursed  and  twisted. 

The  crowd's  allegiance  had  been  quick  to  shift, 
but  it  veered  back  to  O'Neil  with  equal  suddenness. 

"Bunco!"  yelled  a  hoarse  voice,  after  a  brief  hush. 

"Lynch  'em!"  cried  another;  and  the  angry 
clamor  burst  forth  anew. 

"Don't  be  foolish,"  shouted  Murray;  "nobody  has 
been  hurt." 

23  345 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"We'd  have  been  on  the  trail  to-morrow.  Send 
'em  down  the  river  barefoot!" 

"Yes!     What  about  that  gang  from  Omar?" 

"I'm  afraid  they'll  have  to  take  care  of  them 
selves,"  O'Neil  said.  "But  these  two  men  aren't 
altogether  to  blame;  they're  acting  under  orders. 
Isn't  that  right?"  he  asked  Thorn. 

The  miner  hesitated,  until  the  grip  in  his  hair 
tightened ;  then,  evidently  fearing  the  menace  in  the 
faces  on  every  side,  he  decided  to  seek  protection 
in  a  complete  confession. 

"Yes!"  he  agreed,  sullenly.  "Gordon  cooked  it 
up.  It's  all  a  fake." 

O'Neil  nodded  with  satisfaction.  "This  is  the 
second  time  he's  tried  to  get  my  men  away  from  me. 
The  other  time  he  failed  because  Tom  Slater  hap 
pened  to  come  down  with  smallpox.  Thank  God, 
he  recovered!" 

A  ripple  of  laughter  spread,  then  grew  into  a 
bellow,  for  the  nature  of  "Happy  Tom's"  illness  had 
long  since  become  a  source  of  general  merriment, 
and  O'Neil's  timely  reference  served  to  divert  the 
crowd.  It  also  destroyed  most  of  its  resentment. 

"You  fellows  don't  seem  able  to  protect  your 
selves;  so  Doc  and  I  will  have  to  do  it  for  you. 
Now  listen,"  he  continued,  more  gravely.  "I  meant 
it  when  I  said  I'd  open  the  commissary  and  help 
you  out  if  the  strike  were  genuine,  but,  nevertheless, 
I  want  you  to  know  just  what  it  would  have  meant 
to  me.  I  haven't  enough  money  to  complete  the 
S.  R.  &  N.,  and  I  can't  raise  enough,  but  I  have 
signed  an  option  to  sell  the  road  if  the  bridge  is 
built  by  next  spring.  It's  really  a  two  years'  job, 
and  some  engineers  don't  believe  it  can  be  built  at 

346 


GORDON'S    FALL 

all,  but  I  know  it  can  if  youll  help.  If  we  fail  I'm 
ruined;  if  we  succeed  " — he  waved  his  hands  and 
smiled  at  them  cheerfully — "maybe  we'll  build  an 
other  railroad  somewhere.  That's  what  this  stam 
pede  meant.  Now,  will  you  stick  to  me?" 

The  answer  roared  from  a  hundred  throats: 

' 'You  bet  we'll  stick!" 

At  the  rear  of  the  room,  whence  they  had  wit 
nessed  the  rapid  unfolding  of  this  drama,  the  two 
girls  joined  in  the  shout.  They  were  hugging  each 
other  and  laughing  hysterically. 

"He  handled  them  just  right,"  said  Elaine,  with 
shining  eyes;  "just  right — but  I  was  worried." 

Walsh,  the  night  foreman,  raised  his  voice  to 
inquire : 

"Does  anybody  want  to  buy  a  dog-team  cheap?" 

"Who  wants  dogs  now?"  jeered  some  one. 

"Give  'em  to  Baker  and  Thorn!" 

O'Neil  was  still  speaking  in  all  earnestness. 

"Boys,"  he  said;  "we  have  a  big  job  on  our  hands. 
It  means  fast  work,  long  hours,  and  little  sleep.  We 
picked  you  fellows  out  because  we  knew  you  were 
the  very  best  bridge-workers  in  the  world.  Now  the 
life  of  the  S.  R.  &  N.  lies  with  you,  and  that  bridge 
must  be  built  on  time.  About  these  two  men  who 
tried  to  stampede  us :  I  think  it's  enough  punishment 
if  we  laugh  at  them.  Don't  you?"  He  smiled  down 
at  Thorn,  who  scowled,  then  grinned  reluctantly 
and  nodded  his  head. 

When  general  good  feeling  was  restored  Murray 
attempted  to  make  his  way  out ;  but  his  men  seemed 
determined  to  thank  him  one  by  one,  and  he  was 
delayed  through  a  long  process  of  hand-shaking. 
It  pleased  him  to  see  that  they  understood  from 

347 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

what  hardships  and  disappointments  he  had  saved 
them,  and  he  was  doubly  grateful  when  Walsh 
rounded  up  his  crew  and  announced  that  the  night 
shift  would  resume  work  at  midnight. 

He  escaped  at  last,  leaving  the  men  grouped  con 
tentedly  about  huge  pans  of  smoking  doughnuts  and 
pots  of  coffee,  which  the  cook-boys  had  brought  in. 
Liquor  was  taboo  in  the  camp,  but  he  gave  orders 
that  unlimited  cigars  be  distributed. 

When  he  reached  his  quarters  he  was  completely 
fagged,  for  the  crisis,  coming  on  top  of  his  many 
responsibilities,  had  taken  all  his  vitality. 

His  once  cheerless  room  was  warm  and  cozy  as  he 
entered:  he  found  Natalie  sleeping  peacefully  on 
his  bed  and  Eliza  curled  up  in  his  big  chair  waiting. 
She  opened  her  eyes  drowsily  and  smiled  up  at  him, 
saying : 

"You  were  splendid,  Omar  Khayyam.  I'm  so 
glad." 

He  laid  a  finger  on  his  lips  and  glanced  at  the 
sleeping  Natalie. 

"Sh-h!" 

"Where  are  you  going  to  put  us  for  the  night?" 

"Right  here,  of  course." 

"Those  men  will  do  anything  for  you  now.  I — I 
think  I'd  die,  too,  if  anything  happened  to  the 
bridge." 

He  took  her  hand  in  his  and  smiled  down  into  her 
earnest  eyes  a  little  wearily.  "Nothing  will  happen. 
Now  go  to  bed — and  thank  you  for  making  a  home 
for  me.  It  really  is  a  home  now.  I'll  appreciate  it 
to-morrow." 

He  tiptoed  out  and  tramped  over  to  Parker's 
quarters  for  the  night. 

348 


GORDON'S    FALL 

The  news  of  the  White  River  fiasco  reached  Curtis 
Gordon  in  Seattle,  whither  he  had  gone  in  a  final 
attempt  to  bolster  up  the  tottering  fortunes  of  the 
Cortez  Home  Railway.  His  disappointment  was 
keen,  yet  O'Neil  from  the  beginning  had  met  his 
attacks  with  such  uniform  success  that  new  failure 
did  not  really  surprise  him;  it  had  been  a  forlorn 
hope  at  best.  Strangely  enough,  he  had  begun  to 
lose  something  of  his  assurance  of  late.  Although  he 
maintained  his  outward  appearance  of  confidence 
with  all  his  old  skill,  within  himself  he  felt  a  growing 
uneasiness,  a  lurking  doubt  of  his  abilities.  Out 
wardly  there  was  reason  enough  for  discouragement, 
for,  while  his  co-operative  railroad  scheme  had  begun 
brilliantly,  its  initial  success  had  not  been  sustained. 
As  time  passed  and  Eliza  Appleton's  exposure  re 
mained  unrefuted  he  had  found  it  ever  more  difficult 
to  enlist  support.  His  own  denials  and  explanations 
seemed  powerless  to  affect  the  public  mind,  and  as  he 
looked  back  he  dated  his  decline  from  the  appearance 
of  her  first  article.  It  had  done  all  the  mischief  he 
had  feared.  Not  only  were  his  old  stock-holders  dis 
satisfied,  but  wherever  he  went  for  aid  he  found  a 
disconcerting  lack  of  response,  a  half-veiled  skepti 
cism  that  was  maddening. 

Yet  his  immediate  business  worries  were  not  all, 
nor  the  worst  of  his  troubles:  his  physical  powers 
were  waning.  To  all  appearances  he  was  as  strong 
as  ever,  but  a  strange  bodily  lassitude  hampered  him ; 
he  tired  easily,  and  against  this  handicap  he  was 
forced  to  struggle  continually.  He  had  never 
rightly  valued  his  amazing  equipment  of  energy 
until  now,  when  some  subtle  ailment  had  begun  to 
sap  it.  The  change  was  less  in  his  muscular  strength 

349 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

than  in  his  nerves  and  his  mental  vigor.  He  found 
himself  growing  peculiarly  irritable;  his  failures  ex 
cited  spasms  of  blind  fury  which  left  him  weak  and 
spent;  he  began  to  suffer  the  depressing  tortures 
of  insomnia.  At  times  the  nerves  in  his  face  and 
neck  twitched  unaccountably,  and  this  distressing 
affection  spread. 

These  symptoms  had  first  manifested  themselves 
after  his  unmerciful  drubbing  at  the  hands  of  Dan 
Appleton:  but  they  were  not  the  result  of  any 
injury;  they  were  due  to  some  deeper  cause.  When 
he  had  recovered  his  senses,  after  the  departure  of 
Dan  and  Natalie,  he  had  fallen  into  a  paroxysm  of 
anger  that  lasted  for  days ;  he  had  raged  and  stormed 
like  a  madman,  for,  to  say  nothing  of  other  humilia 
tions,  he  prided  himself  extravagantly  on  his  physical 
prowess.  While  the  marks  of  the  rough  treatment 
he  had  suffered  were  disappearing  he  remained  in 
doors,  plunged  in  such  abysmal  fury  that  neither 
Gloria  nor  the  fawning  Denny  dared  approach  him. 
The  very  force  of  his  emotions  had  permanently  dis 
turbed  his  poise,  or  perhaps  effected  some  obscure 
lesion  in  his  brain.  Even  when  he  showed  himself 
again  in  public  he  was  still  abnormally  choleric. 
His  fits  of  passion  became  almost  apoplectic  in  their 
violence;  they  caused  his  associates  to  shun  him  as 
a  man  dangerous,  and  in  his  calmer  moments  he 
thought  of  them  with  alarm.  He  had  tried  to  re 
gain  his  nervous  control,  but  without  success,  and  his 
wife's  anxiety  only  chafed  him  further.  Gradually 
he  lost  his  mental  buoyancy,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  he  really  yielded  to  pessimism.  He  found 
he  could  no  longer  attack  a  problem  with  his  accus 
tomed  certainty  of  conquering  it.  but  was  haunted 

350 


GORDON'S    FALL 

by  a  foreboding  of  inevitable  failure.  All  in  all, 
when  he  reached  the  States  on  his  critical  mission  he 
knew  that  he  was  far  from  being  his  old  self,  and  he 
had  deteriorated  more  than  he  knew. 

A  week  or  two  of  disappointments  should  have 
shown  him  the  futility  of  further  effort ;  at  any  other 
time  it  would  have  set  him  to  putting  his  house  in 
order  for  the  final  crash,  but  now  it  merely  enraged 
him.  He  redoubled  his  activity,  launching  a  new 
campaign  of  publicity  so  extravagant  and  ill-timed 
as  to  repel  the  assistance  he  needed.  He  had  lost 
his  finesse;  his  nicely  adjusted  financial  sense  had 
gone. 

The  outcome  was  not  long  delayed ;  it  came  in  the 
form  of  a  newspaper  despatch  to  the  effect  that  his 
Cortez  bank  had  suspended  payment  because  of  a 
run  started  by  the  dissatisfied  employees  of  the  rail 
road.  Through  Gordon's  flamboyant  advertising 
his  enterprises  were  so  well  known  by  this  time  that 
the  story  was  featured  despite  his  efforts  to  kill  it. 
His  frantic  cables  to  Cortez  for  a  denial  only  brought 
assurances  that  the  report  was  true  and  that  condi 
tions  would  not  mend  unless  a  shipment  of  currency 
was  immediately  forthcoming. 

Harassed  by  reporters,  driven  on  by  the  need  for 
a  show  of  action,  he  set  out  to  raise  the  money,  but 
the  support  he  had  hoped  for  failed  him  when  it 
transpired  that  his  bank's  assets  consisted  mainly 
of  real  estate  at  boom  prices  and  stock  in  his  various 
companies  which  had  been  inflated  to  the  bursting- 
point.  Days  passed,  a  week  or  more;  then  he  was 
compelled  to  relinquish  his  option  on  the  steamship 
line  he  had  partly  purchased,  and  to  sacrifice  all  that 
had  been  paid  in  on  the  enterprise.  This,  too,  made 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

a  big  story  for  the  newspapers,  for  it  punctured  one 
of  the  most  imposing  corporations  in  the  famous 
' '  Gordon  System. ' '  It  likewise  threatened  to  involve 
the  others  in  the  general  crash.  Hope  Consolidated, 
indeed,  still  remained,  and  Gordon's  declaration  that 
the  value  of  its  shares  was  more  than  sufficient  to 
protect  his  bank  met  with  some  credence  until, 
swift  upon  the  heels  of  the  other  disasters,  came  an 
application  for  a  receiver  by  the  stock  -  holders, 
coupled  with  the  promise  of  a  rigorous  investigation 
into  his  various  financial  manipulations.  Then  at 
last  Gordon  acknowledged  defeat. 

Ruin  had  come  swiftly;  the  diversity  of  his  inter 
ests  made  his  situation  the  more  hopeless,  for  so 
cunningly  had  he  interlocked  one  with  another  that 
to  separate  them  promised  to  be  an  endless  task. 

He  still  kept  up  a  fairly  successful  pretense  of 
confidence,  and  publicly  he  promised  to  bring  order 
out  of  chaos,  but  in  secret  he  gave  way  to  the  black 
est  despair.  Heretofore,  failure  had  never  affected 
him  deeply,  for  he  had  always  managed  to  escape 
with  advantage  to  his  pocket  and  without  serious 
damage  to  his  prestige,  but  out  of  the  present 
difficulty  he  could  find  no  way.  His  office  force 
stopped  work,  frightened  at  his  bearing;  the  bell 
boys  of  his  hotel  brought  to  the  desk  tales  of  such 
maniacal  violence  that  he  was  requested  to  move. 

At  last  the  citizens  of  Cortez,  who  up  to  this 
time  had  been  like  putty  in  his  ringers,  realized  their 
betrayal  and  turned  against  him.  Creditors  at 
tached  the  railway  property,  certain  violent-tempered 
men  prayed  openly  and  earnestly  to  their  gods  for 
his  return  to  Alaska  in  order  that  they  might  exact 
satisfaction  in  frontier  fashion.  Eastern  investors 

352 


GORDON'S    FALL 

in  Hope  Consolidated  appeared  in  Seattle:  there 
was  talk  of  criminal  procedure. 

Bewildered  as  he  was,  half  crazed  with  anxiety, 
Gordon  knew  that  the  avalanche  had  not  only 
wrecked  his  fortunes,  but  was  bearing  him  swiftly 
toward  the  penitentiary.  Its  gates  yawned  to  wel 
come  him,  and  he  felt  a  chilling  terror  such  as  he 
had  never  known. 

One  evening  as  Captain  Johnny  Brennan  stood 
on  the  dock  superintending  the  final  loading  of  a 
cargo  for  the  S.  R.  &  N.  he  was  accosted  by  a  tall, 
nervous  man  with  shifting  eyes  and  twitching  lips. 
It  was  hard  to  recognize  in  this  pitiable  shaken  crea 
ture  the  once  resplendent  Gordon,  who  had  bent  the 
whole  northland  to  his  ends.  Some  tantalizing 
demons  inside  the  man's  frame  were  jerking  at  his 
sinews.  Fear  was  in  his  roving  glance;  he  stam 
mered;  he  plucked  at  the  little  captain's  sleeve  like 
a  frightened  woman.  The  open-hearted  Irishman 
was  touched. 

"Yes,"  said  Johnny,  after  listening  for  a  time. 
"I'll  take  you  with  me,  and  they  won't  catch  you, 
either." 

Gordon  chattered:  "I'll  pay  you  well,  hand 
somely.  I'm  a  rich  man.  I  have  interests  that 
demand  attention,  so — accept  this  money.  Please! 
Keep  it  all,  my  good  fellow." 

Brennan  stared  at  the  bundle  Gordon  had  thrust 
into  his  hand,  then  regarded  the  speaker  curiously. 

"Man  dear,"  he  said,  "this  isn't  money.  These 
are  stock  certificates." 

"Eh?  Stock?  Well,  there's  money  in  stocks,  big 
money,  if  you  know  how  to  handle  them."  The 
promoter's  wandering  eye  shifted  to  the  line  of 

353 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

stevedores  trundling  their  trucks  into  the  hold,  then 
up  to  the  crane  with  its  straining  burden  of  bridge 
material.  Every  package  was  stenciled  with  his 
rival's  name,  but  he  exclaimed: 

" Bravo,  Captain!  We'll  be  up  to  the  summit  by 
Christmas.  '  No  graft !  No  incompetence !  The  ut 
most  publicity  in  corporate  affairs !' — that's  our  plat 
form.  We're  destined  for  a  glorious  success.  Glori 
ous  success!" 

"Go  aboard  and  lie  down,"  Brennan  said,  gently. 
"You  need  a  good  sleep."  Then,  calling  a  steward, 
he  ordered,  "Show  Mr.  Gordon  to  my  cabin  and  give 
him  what  he  wants." 

He  watched  the  tall  figure  stumble  up  the  gang 
plank,  and  shook  his  head : 

"'The  utmost  publicity/  is  it?  Well,  it's  you 
that's  getting  it  now.  And  to  think  that  you're 
the  man  with  the  mines  and  the  railroads  and  the 
widow!  I'm  afraid  you'll  be  in  irons  when  she  sees 
you,  but — that's  as  good  a  finish  as  you  deserve, 
after  all." 


XXV 

PREPARATIONS 

THE  building  of  the  Salmon  River  bridge  will 
not  soon  be  forgotten  by  engineers  and  men 
of  science.  But,  while  the  technical  features  of  the 
undertaking  are  familiar  to  a  few,  the  general  public 
knows  little  about  how  the  work  was  actually  done; 
and  since  the  building  of  the  bridge  was  the  pivotal 
point  in  Murray  O 'Neil's  career,  it  may  be  well  to 
describe  in  some  detail  its  various  phases  —  the 
steps  which  led  up  to  that  day  when  the  Salmon 
burst  her  bonds  and  put  the  result  of  all  his 
planning  and  labor  to  the  final  test. 

Nowhere  else  in  the  history  of  bridge  -  building 
had  such  conditions  been  encountered;  nowhere  on 
earth  had  work  of  this  character  been  attended  with 
greater  hazards;  never  had  circumstances  created  a 
situation  of  more  dramatic  interest.  By  many  the 
whole  venture  was  regarded  as  a  reckless  gamble; 
for  more  than  a  million  dollars  had  been  risked  on 
the  chance  not  alone  that  O'Neil  could  build  supports 
which  the  ice  could  not  demolish,  but  that  he  could 
build  them  under  the  most  serious  difficulties  in 
record-breaking  time.  Far  more  than  the  mere  cost 
of  the  structure  hinged  upon  his  success:  failure 
would  mean  that  his  whole  investment  up  to  that 
point  would  be  wiped  out,  to  say  nothing  of  the 

355 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

twenty-million-dollar  project  of  a  trunk-line  up  the 
valley  of  the  Salmon. 

Had  the  Government  permitted  the  Kyak  coal 
fields  to  be  opened  up,  the  lower  reaches  of  the 
S.  R.  &  N.  would  have  had  a  value,  but  all  activity 
in  that  region  had  been  throttled,  and  the  policy 
of  delay  and  indecision  at  headquarters  promised 
no  relief. 

Careful  as  had  been  the  plans,  exhaustive  and 
painstaking  as  had  been  the  preparations,  the  bridge- 
builders  met  with  unpreventable  delays,  disappoint 
ments,  and  disasters;  for  man  is  but  a  feeble  creature 
whose  brain  tires  and  whose  dreams  are  brittle.  It 
is  with  these  hindrances  and  accidents  and  with 
their  effect  upon  the  outcome  that  we  have  to  deal. 

Of  course,  the  greatest  handicap,  the  one  ever- 
present  obstacle,  was  the  cold,  and  this  made  itself 
most  troublesome  in  the  sinking  of  the  caissons  and 
the  building  of  the  concrete  piers.  It  was  necessary, 
for  instance,  to  house  in  all  cement  work,  and  to 
raise  the  temperature  not  only  of  the  air  surrounding 
it,  but  of  the  materials  themselves  before  they  were 
mixed  and  laid.  Huge  wind-breaks  had  to  be  built 
to  protect  the  outside  men  from  the  gales  that 
scoured  the  river-bed,  and  these  were  forever  blowing 
down  or  suffering  damage  from  the  hurricanes. 
All  this,  however,  had  been  anticipated:  it  was  but 
the  normal  condition  of  work  in  the  northland. 
And  it  was  not  until  the  middle  of  winter,  shortly 
after  Eliza's  and  Natalie's  visit  to  the  front,  that  an 
unexpected  danger  threatened,  a  danger  more  ap 
palling  than  any  upon  which  O'Neil  and  his  assistants 
had  reckoned. 

In  laying  his  plans  Parker  had  proceeded  upon 
356 


PREPARATIONS 

the  assumption  that,  once  the  cold  had  gripped  the 
glaciers,  they  would  remain  motionless  until  spring. 
All  available  evidence  went  to  prove  the  correctness 
of  this  supposition,  but  Alaska  is  a  land  of  surprises, 
of  contrasts,  of  contradictions:  study  of  its  phenom 
ena  is  too  recent  to  make  practicable  the  laying  down 
of  hard  and  fast  rules.  In  the  midst  of  a  season  of 
cruelly  low  temperatures  there  came  a  thaw,  unprece 
dented,  inexplicable.  A  tremendous  warm  breath 
from  the  Pacific  rolled  northward,  bathing  the  frozen 
plains  and  mountain  ranges.  Blizzards  turned  to 
rains  and  weeping  fogs,  the  dry  and  shifting  snow- 
fields  melted,  water  ran  in  the  courses.  Winter 
loosed  its  hold;  its  mantle  slipped.  Nothing  like 
this  had  ever  been  known  or  imagined.  It  was 
impossible !  It  was  as  if  the  unhallowed  region  were 
bent  upon  living  up  to  its  evil  reputation.  In  a 
short  time  the  loosened  waters  that  trickled  through 
the  sleeping  ice-fields  greased  the  foundations  upon 
which  they  lay.  Jackson  Glacier  roused  itself,  then 
began  to  glide  forward  like  a  ship  upon  its  ways. 
First  there  came  the  usual  premonitory  explosions— 
the  sound  of  subterranean  blasts  as  the  ice  cracked, 
gave  way,  and  shifted  to  the  weight  above;  echoes 
filled  the  sodden  valley  with  memories  of  the  summer 
months.  It  was  as  if  the  seasons  had  changed,  as 
if  the  zodiacal  procession  had  been  thrown  into 
confusion.  The  frozen  surface  of  the  Salmon  was 
inundated;  water  four  feet  deep  in  some  places  ran 
over  it. 

The  general  wonder  at  this  occurrence  changed  to 
consternation  when  it  was  seen  that  the  glacier 
acted  like  a  battering-ram  of  stupendous  size,  buck 
ling  the  river  ice  in  front  of  it  as  if  ice  were  made 

357 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

of  paper.  That  seven -foot  armor  was  crushed, 
broken  into  a  thousand  fragments,  which  threatened 
to  choke  the  stream.  A  half-mile  below  the  bridge 
site  the  Salmon  was  pinched  as  if  between  two  jaws; 
its  smooth  surface  was  rapidly  turned  into  an  in 
describable  jumble  of  up-ended  cakes. 

When  a  fortnight  had  passed  O'Neil  began  to  fear 
that  this  movement  would  go  on  until  the  channel 
had  been  closed  as  by  a  huge  sliding  door.  In  that 
case  the  rising  waters  would  quickly  wipe  out  all 
traces  of  his  work.  Such  a  crumpling  and  shifting 
of  the  ice  had  never  occurred  before — at  least,  not 
within  fifty  years,  as  the  alder  and  cottonwood 
growth  on  the  east  bank  showed;  but  nothing  seemed 
impossible,  no  prank  too  grimly  grotesque  for 
Nature  to  play  in  this  solitude.  O'Neil  felt  that 
his  own  ingenuity  was  quite  unequal  to  the  task  of 
combating  this  peril.  Set  against  forces  so  tre 
mendous  and  arbitrary  human  invention  seemed 
dwarfed  to  a  pitiable  insignificance. 

Day  after  day  he  watched  the  progress  of  that 
white  palisade ;  day  after  day  he  scanned  the  heavens 
for  a  sign  of  change,  for  out  of  the  sky  alone  could 
come  his  deliverance.  Hourly  tests  were  made  at 
the  bridge  site,  lest  the  ice  should  give  way  before 
the  pressure  from  below  and  by  moving  up-stream 
destroy  the  intricate  pattern  of  piling  which  was 
being  driven  to  support  the  steelwork.  But  day 
after  day  the  snows  continued  to  melt  and  the  rain 
to  fall.  Two  rivers  were  now  boiling  past  the  camp, 
one  hidden  deep,  the  other  a  shallow  torrent  which 
ran  upon  a  bed  of  ice.  The  valley  was  rent  by  the 
sounds  of  the  glacier's  snail-like  progress. 

Then,  without  apparent  cause,  the  seasons  fell  into 

358 


PREPARATIONS 

order  again,  the  mercury  dropped,  the  surface-water 
disappeared,  the  country  was  sheeted  with  a  glit 
tering  crust  over  which  men  walked,  leaving  no  trace 
of  footprints.  Jackson  became  silent:  once  again 
the  wind  blew  cold  from  out  of  the  funnel-mouth 
and  the  bridge-builders  threshed  their  arms  to  start 
their  blood.  But  the  glacier  face  had  advanced  four 
hundred  feet  from  its  position  in  August;  it  had 
narrowed  the  Salmon  by  fully  one-half  its  width. 

Fortunately,  the  bridge  had  suffered  no  damage 
as  yet,  and  no  one  foresaw  the  effect  which  these 
altered  conditions  were  to  have. 

The  actual  erection  of  steelwork  was  impossible 
during  the  coldest  months ;  Parker  had  planned  only 
to  rush  the  piers,  abutments,  and  false- work  to 
completion  so  that  he  could  take  advantage  of  the 
mild  spring  weather  preceding  the  break-up.  The 
execution  of  this  plan  was  in  itself  an  unparalleled 
undertaking,  making  it  necessary  to  hire  double 
crews  of  picked  men.  Yet,  as  the  weeks  wore  into 
months  the  intricate  details  were  wrought  out  one 
by  one,  and  preparations  were  completed  for  the 
great  race. 

Late  in  March  Dan  Appleton  went  to  the  front, 
taking  with  him  his  wife  and  his  sister,  for  whom 
O'Neil  had  thoughtfully  prepared  suitable  living- 
quarters.  The  girls  were  as  hungry  as  Dan  to  have 
a  part  in  the  deciding  struggle,  or  at  least  to  see  it 
close  at  hand,  for  the  spirit  of  those  engaged  in  the 
work  had  entered  them  also.  Life  at  Omar  of  late 
had  been  rather  uneventful,  and  they  looked  forward 
with  pleasure  to  a  renewal  of  those  companionable 
relations  which  had  made  the  summer  months  so 
full  of  interest  and  delight.  But  they  were  dis- 

350 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

appointed.  Life  at  the  end  of  the  line  they  found  to 
be  a  very  grim,  a  very  earnest,  and  in  some  respects 
an  extremely  disagreeable  affair:  the  feverish,  un 
ceasing  activity  of  their  friends  left  no  time  for 
companionship  or  recreation  of  any  sort.  More  and 
more  they,  too,  came  to  feel  the  sense  of  haste  and 
strain  pervading  the  whole  army  of  workers,  the 
weight  of  responsibility  that  bore  upon  the  com 
mander. 

Dan  became  almost  a  stranger  to  them,  and  when 
they  saw  him  he  was  obsessed  by  vital  issues. 
Mellen  was  gruff  and  irritable:  Parker  in  his  pre 
occupation  ignored  everything  but  his  duties.  Of 
all  their  former  comrades  O'Neil  alone  seemed  aware 
of  their  presence.  But  behind  his  smile  they  saw 
the  lurking  worries;  in  his  eyes  was  an  abstraction 
they  could  not  penetrate,  in  his  bearing  the  fatigue 
of  a  man  tried  to  the  breaking-point. 

To  Eliza  there  was  a  certain  joy  merely  in  being 
near  the  man  she  loved,  even  though  she  could  not 
help  being  hurt  by  his  apparent  indifference.  The 
long  weeks  without  sight  of  him  had  deepened  her 
feeling,  and  she  had  turned  for  relief  to  the  writing  of 
her  book — the  natural  outlet  for  her  repressed  emo 
tions.  Into  its  pages  she  had  poured  all  her  passion, 
all  her  yearning,  and  she  had  written  with  an  intimate 
understanding  of  O' Neil's  ambitions  and  aims  which 
later  gave  the  story  its  unique  success  as  an  epic 
of  financial  romance. 

Hers  was  a  nature  which  could  not  be  content  with 
idleness.  She  took  up  the  work  that  she  and  Nat 
alie  had  begun,  devoting  herself  unobtrusively  yet 
effectively  to  making  O'Neil  comfortable.  It  was  a 
labor  of  love,  done  with  no  expectation  of  reward;  it 

360 


PREPARATIONS 

thrilled  her,  filling  her  with  mingled  sadness  and  satis 
faction.  But  if  Murray  noticed  the  improvement  in 
his  surroundings,  which  she  sometimes  doubted,  he 
evidently  attributed  it  to  a  sudden  access  of  zeal  on 
the  part  of  Ben,  for  he  made  no  comment.  Whether 
or  not  she  wished  him  to  see  and  understand  she 
could  hardly  tell.  Somehow  his  unobservant,  mas 
culine  acceptance  of  things  better  and  worse  appealed 
to  the  woman  in  her.  She  slipped  into  O' Neil's  quar 
ters  during  his  absence,  and  slipped  out  again  quietly ; 
she  learned  to  know  his  ways,  his  peculiarities;  she 
found  herself  caressing  and  talking  to  his  personal 
belongings  as  if  they  could  hear  and  understand. 
She  conducted  long  conversations  with  the  objects  on 
his  bureau.  One  morning  Ben  entered  unexpectedly 
to  surprise  her  in  the  act  of  kissing  Murray's  shaving- 
mirror  as  if  it  still  preserved  the  image  of  its  owner's 
face,  after  which  she  banished  the  cook-boy  utterly 
and  performed  his  duties  with  her  own  hands. 

Of  course,  discovery  was  inevitable.  At  last  O'Neil 
stumbled  in  upon  her  in  the  midst  of  her  task,  and, 
questioning  her,  read  the  truth  from  her  blushes  and 
her  incoherent  attempts  at  explanation. 

"So!  You're  the  one  who  has  been  doing  this!" 
he  exclaimed,  in  frank  astonishment.  "And  I've 
been  tipping  Benny  for  his  thoughtfulness  all  this 
time!  The  rascal  has  made  enough  to  retire  rich." 

"He  seemed  not  to  understand  his  duties  very  well, 
so  I  took  charge.  But  you  had  no  business  to  catch 
me!"  The  flush  died  from  Eliza's  cheeks,  and  she 
faced  him  with  thoroughly  feminine  indignation. 

*T  can't  let  you  go  on  with  this,"  said  Murray. 
" I  ought  to  be  doing  something  for  you." 

But  the  girl  flared  up  defiantly.     "I  love  it.     I'll 

24  361 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

do  it,  no  matter  if  you  lock  me  out.  I'm  not  on  the 
pay-roll,  you  know,  so  you  have  no  authority  over 
me — none  at  all ! " 

His  eyes  roved  around  the  room,  and  for  the  first 
time  he  fully  took  in  the  changes  her  hands  had 
wrought. 

"My  dear  child,  it's  very  nice  to  be  spoiled  this 
way  and  have  everything  neat  and  clean,  but — it 
embarrasses  me  dreadfully  to  have  you  saddled  with 
the  sordid  work— 

"It  isn't  sordid,  and — what  brought  you  home  at 
this  hour,  anyhow?"  she  demanded. 

O' Neil's  smile  gave  place  to  an  anxious  frown. 

"The  ice  is  rising,  and — " 

"Rising?" 

"Yes.  Our  old  enemy  Jackson  Glacier  is  causing 
us  trouble  again.  That  jam  of  broken  ice  in  front  of 
it  is  backing  up  the  water — there's  more  running  now, 
and  the  ice  is  lifting.  It's  lifting  the  false-work  with 
it,  pulling  the  piles  out  of  the  river-bottom  like  splin 
ters  out  of  a  sore  hand." 

"That's  pretty  bad,  isn't  it?" 

' '  It  certainly  is.  It  threatens  to  throw  everything 
out  of  alignment  and  prevent  us  from  laying  the  steel 
if  we  don't  check  it." 

"Check  it!"  cried  Eliza.  "How  can  you  check  a 
thing  like  that?" 

"Easily  enough,  if  we  can  spare  the  hands — by 
cutting  away  the  ice  where  it  is  frozen  to  the  piles,  so 
that  it  won't  lift  them  with  it.  The  trouble  is  to  get 
men  enough — you  see,  the  ice  is  nine  feet  thick  now. 
I've  set  every  man  to  work  with  axes  and  chisels  and 
steam-points,  and  I  came  up  to  telephone  Slater  for 
more  help.  We'll  have  to  work  fast,  night  and  day." 

362 


PREPARATIONS 

"There's  nobody  left  in  Omar,"  Eliza  said,  quickly. 

"I  know.  Tom's  going  to  gather  all  he  can  at 
Cortez  and  Hope  and  rush  them  out  here.  Our  task 
is  to  keep  the  ice  cut  away  until  help  arrives." 

"I  suppose  it's  too  late  in  the  season  to  repair  any 
serious  damage  ? ' ' 

-  "  Exactly.  If  you  care  to  go  back  with  me  you 
can  see  what  we're  doing."  As  they  set  off  for  the 
bridge  site  Murray  looked  down  at  Eliza,  striding 
man-like  beside  him,  with  something  of  affectionate 
appreciation  in  his  eyes,  and  said  humbly :  "It  was 
careless  of  me  not  to  see  what  you  have  been  doing 
for  me  all  this  time.  My  only  excuse  is  that  I've 
been  driven  half  mad  with  other  things.  I — haven't 
time  to  think  of  myself." 

"All  housekeepers  have  a  thankless  task,"  laughed 
Eliza. 

When  they  reached  the  river-bank  she  saw  every 
thing  apparently  just  as  when  she  had  last  seen  it. 
"Why,  it's  not  as  bad  as  I  imagined!"  she  ex 
claimed.  "I  thought  I'd  find  everything  going  to 
smash." 

"Oh,  there's  nothing  spectacular  about  it.  There 
seldom  is  about  serious  mishaps  in  this  business.  The 
ice  has  risen  only  an  inch  or  more  so  far,  but  the  very 
slowness  and  sureness  of  it  is  what's  alarming.  It 
shows  that  the  water  is  backing  up,  and  as  the  flow 
increases  the  rise  of  the  ice  will  quicken.  If  it  starts 
to  move  up  or  down  stream,  we're  lost." 

There  was  ample  evidence  that  the  menace  was 
thoroughly  understood,  for  the  whole  day  shift  was 
toiling  at  the  ice,  chopping  it,  thawing  it,  shoveling 
it  away,  although  its  tremendous  thickness  made 
their  efforts  seem  puerile.  Everywhere  there  was 

363 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

manifested  a  frantic  haste,  a  grim,  strained  eagerness 
that  was  full  of  ominous  meaning. 

All  that  day  Eliza  watched  the  unequal  struggle, 
and  in  the  evening  Dan  brought  her  reports  that 
were  far  from  reassuring.  The  relentless  movement 
showed  no  sign  of  ceasing.  When  she  retired  that 
night  she  sought  ease  from  her  anxiety  in  a  prayer 
that  was  half  a  petition  for  O' Neil's  success  and  half 
an  exceedingly  full  and  frank  confession  of  her  love 
for  him.  Outside,  beneath  the  glare  of  torches  and 
hastily  strung  incandescents,  a  weary  army  toiled 
stubbornly,  digging,  gouging,  chopping  at  the  foot 
of  the  towering  wall  of  timbers  which  stretched  across 
the  Salmon.  In  the  north  the  aurora  borealis  played 
brilliantly  as  if  to  light  a  council  of  the  gods. 

On  the  following  day  "Happy  Tom"  arrived  with 
fifty  men. 

"I  got  the  last  mother's  son  I  could  find,"  he 
explained,  as  he  warmed  himself  at  O' Neil's  stove. 

"Did  you  go  to  Hope?" 

"I  did,  and  I  saw  the  splavvus,  himself." 

"Gordon?" 

"He's  worse  than  we  thought."  Tom  tapped  his 
shining  forehead  significantly.  '  *  Loft  to  let !' ' 

"What— insane?" 

"Nothing  but  echoes  in  his  dome.  The  town's 
as  empty  as  his  bonnet  too,  and  the  streets  are  full 
of  snow.  It's  a  sight!" 

"Tell  me  about  Mrs.  Gordon." 

"She's  quite  a  person,"  said  Slater,  slowly.  "She 
surprised  me.  She's  there,  alone  with  him  and  a 
watchman.  She  does  all  the  work,  even  to  lugging 
in  the  wood  and  coal — he's  too  busy  to  help — but 
she  won't  leav?  him.  She  told  me  that  Dan  and  Nat- 

364 


PREPARATIONS 

alie  wanted  her  to  come  over  here,  but  she  couldn't 
bring  herself  to  do  it  or  to  let  them  assist  in  any 
way.  Gordon  spends  all  his  time  at  his  desk,  pro 
moting,  writing  ads  and  prospectuses.  He's  got 
a  grand  scheme.  He's  found  that  'Hope  Consoli 
dated'  is  full  of  rich  ore,  but  the  trouble  is  in  getting 
it  out ;  so  he's  working  on  a  new  process  of  extraction. 
It's  a  wonderful  process — you'd  never  guess  what 
it  is.  He  smokes  it  out!  He  says  all  he  needs  is 
plenty  of  smoke.  That  bothered  him  until  he  hit 
on  the  idea  of  burning  feathers.  Now  he's  planning 
to  raise  ducks,  because  they've  got  so  much  down. 
Isn't  that  the  limit?  She'll  have  to  fit  him  into  a 
padded  cell  sooner  or  later." 

1 ' Poor  devil !"  said  O'Neil.  "I'm  sorry.  He  had 
an  unusual  mind." 

Slater  sniffed.  "I  think  it's  pretty  soft  for  him, 
myself.  He's  made  better  than  a  stand-off — he  lost 
his  memory,  but  he  saved  his  skin.  It's  funny  how 
some  men  can't  fall:  if  they  slip  on  a  banana-peel 
somebody  shoves  a  cushion  under  'em  before  they 
light.  /  never  got  the  best  of  anything.  If  I 
dropped  asleep  in  church  my  wife  would  divorce  me 
and  I'd  go  to  the  electric  chair.  Gordon  robs  wid 
ows  and  orphans,  right  and  left,  then  ends  up  with 
a  loving  woman  to  take  care  of  him  in  his  old  age. 
Why,  if  I  even  robbed  a  blind  puppy  of  a  biscuit 
I'd  leave  a  thumb-print  on  his  ear,  or  the  dog's  mother 
would  turn  out  to  be  a  bloodhound.  Anyhow,  I'd 
spend  my  declining  years  nestled  up  to  a  rock-pile, 
with  a  mallet  in  my  mit,  and  a  low-browed  gentle 
man  scowling  at  me  from  the  top  of  a  wall.  He'd 
lean  on  his  shotgun  and  say,  'Hurry  up,  Fatty; 
it's  getting  late  and  there's  a  ton  of  oakum  to  pick/ 

365 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

It  just  goes  to  show  that  some  of  us  is  born  behind 
the  game  and  never  get  even,  while  others,  like 
Gordon,  quit  winner  no  matter  how  much  they  lose.'* 
Having  relieved  himself  of  this  fervid  homily, 
' '  Happy  Tom  "  unrolled  a  package  of  gum  and  thrust 
three  sticks  into  his  mouth.  ' '  Speaking  of  bad  luck, ' ' 
he  continued,  "when  are  you  going  to  get  married, 
Murray?" 

O'Neil  started.  ' '  Why— never.  It  isn't  the  same 
kind  of  proposition  as  building  a  bridge,  you  know. 
There's  a  little  matter  of  youth  and  good  looks  that 
counts  considerably  in  the  marriage  business.  No 
woman  would  have  an  old  chap  like  me." 

Slater  took  a  mournful  inventory  of  his  chief's 
person,  then  said  doubtfully:  "You  might  put  it 
over,  Murray.  I  ain't  strictly  handsome,  myself, 
but  I  did." 

As  O'Neil  slipped  into  his  fur  coat,  after  the  fat 
man  had  slouched  out,  he  caught  sight  of  himself  in 
the  glass  of  his  bureau  and  paused.  He  leaned  for 
ward  and  studied  the  care-worn  countenance  that 
peered  forth  at  him,  then  shook  his  head.  He  saw 
that  the  hair  was  growing  grayer;  that  the  face  was 
very  plain,  and — yes,  unquestionably,  it  was  no 
longer  youthful.  Of  course,  he  didn't  feel  old,  but 
the  evidence  that  he  was  so  admitted  of  no  disproof, 
and  it  was  evidence  of  a  sort  which  no  woman  could 
disregard.  He  turned  from  the  glass  with  a  qualm 
of  disgust  at  his  weakness  in  allowing  himself  to  be 
influenced  in  the  slightest  by  Tom's  suggestion. 

For  a  week  the  ice  rose  slowly,  a  foot  a  day,  and 
in  spite  of  the  greatest  watchfulness  it  took  the  false 
work  with  it  here  and  there.  But  concentrated 
effort  at  the  critical  points  saved  the  structure  from 

366 


PREPARATIONS 

serious  injury.  Then  the  jam  in  front  of  Jackson 
Glacier  went  out,  at  least  in  part,  and  the  ice  began 
to  fall.  Down  it  settled,  smoothly,  swiftly,  until 
it  rested  once  more  upon  the  shores.  It  was  still 
as  firm  as  in  midwinter,  and  showed  no  sign  of 
breaking;  nor  had  it  moved  down-stream  a  hair's 
breadth.  O'Neil  gathered  his  forces  for  the  final 
onslaught. 


XXVI 

THE   RACE 

ON  April  5th  the  last  of  the  steel  for  Span  Number 
One  reached  the  front,  and  erection  was  begun. 
The  men  fell  to  with  a  vim  and  an  enthusiasm  impos 
sible  to  describe.  With  incredible  rapidity  the  heavy 
sections  were  laid  in  place;  the  riveters  began  their 
metallic  song;  the  towering  three  bent  traveler  ran 
smoothly  on  its  track,  and  under  it  grew  a  web  work 
of  metal,  braced  and  reinforced  to  withstand,  in  addi 
tion  to  ordinary  strains,  the  pressure  of  a  hundred- 
mile-an-hour  wind.  To  those  who  looked  on,  the 
structure  appeared  to  build  itself,  like  some  dream 
edifice;  it  seemed  a  miracle  that  human  hands  could 
work  that  stubborn  metal  so  swiftly  and  with  so  little 
effort.  But  every  piece  had  been  cut  and  fitted  care 
fully,  then  checked  and  placed  where  it  was  accessible. 

Now  that  winter  had  broken,  spring  came  with  a 
rush.  The  snows  began  to  shrink  and  the  drifts  to 
settle.  The  air  grew  balmier  with  every  day;  the 
drip  from  eaves  was  answered  by  the  gurgling  laugh 
ter  of  hidden  waters.  Here  and  there  the  boldest 
mountainsides  began  to  show,  and  the  tops  of  alder 
thickets  thrust  themselves  into  sight.  Where  wood 
or  metal  caught  the  sun-rays  the  snow  retreated; 
pools  of  ice- water  began  to  form  at  noon. 

The  days  were  long,  too,  and  no  frozen  winds 

368 


THE    RACE 

charged  out  of  the  north.  As  the  daylight  length 
ened,  so  did  the  working-hours  of  the  toilers. 

On  April  i8th  the  span  was  completed.  In  thir 
teen  days  Mellen's  crew  had  laid  four  hundred  feet 
of  the  heaviest  steel  ever  used  in  a  bridge  of  this  type. 
But  there  was  no  halt;  the  material  for  the  second 
section  had  been  assembled,  meanwhile,  and  the 
traveler  began  to  swing  it  into  place. 

The  din  was  unceasing;  the  clash  of  riveters,  the 
creak  and  rattle  of  hoists,  the  shouts  of  men  mingled 
in  a  persistent,  ear-splitting  clamor;  and  foot  by  foot 
the  girders  reached  out  toward  the  second  monolith 
which  rose  from  the  river-bed.  The  well-adjusted 
human  machine  was  running  smoothly;  every  man 
knew  his  place  and  the  duties  that  went  with  it ;  the 
hands  of  each  worker  were  capable  and  skilled.  But 
now  the  hillsides  were  growing  bare,  rills  gashed  the 
sloping  snow-fields,  the  upper  gullies  began  to  rum 
ble  to  avalanches — forerunners  of  the  process  that 
would  strip  the  earth  of  snow  and  ice  and  free  the 
river  in  all  its  fury.  In  six  days  three  hundred  feet 
more  of  steel  had  been  bolted  fast  to  the  complete 
section,  and  Span  Two  was  in  place.  But  the  sur 
face  of  the  Salmon  was  no  longer  white  and  pure ;  it 
was  dirty  and  discolored  now,  for  the  debris  which 
had  collected  during  the  past  winter  was  exposing  it 
self.  The  icy  covering  was  partially  inundated  also; 
shallow  ponds  formed  upon  it  and  were  rippled  by 
the  south  breeze.  Running  waters  on  every  side 
sang  a  menace  to  the  workers. 

Then  progress  ceased  abruptly.  It  became  known 
that  a  part  of  the  material  for  the  third  span  had  gone 
astray  in  its  long  journey  across  the  continent.  There 
had  been  a  delay  at  the  Pittsburg  mills,  then  a  block- 

369 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

ade  in  the  Sierras;  O'Neil  was  in  Omar  at  the  end  of 
the  cable  straining  every  nerve  to  have  the  shipment 
rushed  through.  Mellen  brooded  over  his  uncom 
pleted  work:  Parker  studied  the  dripping  hills  and 
measured  the  melting  snows.  He  still  smiled ;  but  he 
showed  his  anxiety  in  a  constant  nervous  unrest,  and 
he  could  not  sleep. 

At  length  news  came  that  Johnny  Brennan  had 
the  steel  aboard  his  ship  and  had  sailed.  A  record 
run  was  predicted,  but  meanwhile  the  south  wind 
brought  havoc  on  its  breath.  The  sun  shone  hotly 
into  the  valley  of  the  Salmon,  and  instead  of  warmth 
it  brought  a  chill  to  the  hearts  of  those  who  watched 
and  waited. 

Twelve  endless,  Idle  days  crawled  by.  Winter  no 
longer  gave  battle;  she  was  routed,  and  in  her  mad 
retreat  she  threatened  to  overwhelm  O' Neil's  for 
tunes. 

On  May  6th  the  needed  bridge  members  were  as 
sembled,  and  the  erection  of  Span  Three  began.  The 
original  plan  had  been  to  build  this  section  on  the 
cantilever  principle,  so  as  to  gain  independence  of  the 
river  ice,  but  to  do  so  would  have  meant  slow  work 
and  much  delay — an  expenditure  of  time  which  the 
terms  of  the  option  made  impossible.  Arrange 
ments  had  been  made,  therefore,  to  lay  it  on  false 
work  as  the  other  spans  had  been  laid,  risking  every 
thing  upon  the  weather. 

As  a  matter  of  precaution  the  southern  half  of  the 
span  was  connected  to  the  completed  portion;  but 
before  the  connection  could  be  fully  made  the  re 
mainder  of  the  jam  in  front  of  Jackson  Glacier,  which 
had  caused  so  much  trouble  heretofore,  went  out 
suddenly,  and  the  river  ice  moved  down-stream  about 

370 


THE    RACE 

a  foot,  carrying  with  it  the  whole  intricate  system  of 
supporting  timbers  beneath  the  uncompleted  span. 
Hasty  measurements  showed  that  the  north  end  of 
the  steel  then  on  the  false-work  was  thirteen  inches 
out  of  line. 

It  was  Mr.  Blaine  who  brought  the  tidings  of  this 
last  calamity  to  Eliza  Appleton.  From  his  evident 
anxiety  she  gathered  that  the  matter  was  of  graver 
consequence  than  she  could  well  understand. 

"Thirteen  inches  in  fifteen  hundred  feet  can't 
amount  to  much,"  she  said,  vaguely. 

Blaine  smiled  in  spite  of  himself.  "You  don't 
understand.  It's  as  bad  as  thirteen  feet,  for  the 
work  can't  go  on  until  everything  is  in  perfect  align 
ment.  That  whole  forest  of  piles  must  be  straight 
ened." 

"Impossible!"  she  gasped.  "Why,  there  are  thou 
sands  of  them." 

He  shook  his  head,  still  smiling  doubtfully.  ' '  Noth 
ing  is  impossible  to  Mellen  and  Parker.  They've 
begun  clearing  away  the  ice  on  the  up-stream  side 
and  driving  new  anchor-piles  above.  They're  going 
to  fit  tackle  to  them  and  yank  the  whole  thing  up 
stream.  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing,  but  there's 
no  time  to  do  anything  else."  He  cast  a  worried 
look  at  the  smiling  sky.  "I  wonder  what  will 
happen  next.  This  is  getting  on  my  nerves." 

Out  on  the  river  swift  work  was  going  on.  Steam 
from  every  available  boiler  was  carried  across  the 
ice  in  feed-pipes,  the  night  shift  had  been  roused  from 
sleep,  and  every  available  man  was  busied  in  re 
lieving  the  pressure.  Pile-drivers  hammered  long 
timbers  into  the  river-bed  above  the  threatened 
point,  hydraulic  jacks  were  put  in  place,  and  steel 

37i 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

cables  were  run  to  drum  and  pulley.  The  men 
worked  sometimes  knee-deep  in  ice- water;  but  they 
did  not  walk,  they  ran.  In  an  incredibly  short  time 
the  preparations  were  completed,  a  strain  was  put 
upon  the  tackle,  and  when  night  came  the  massive 
false-work  had  been  pulled  back  into  line  and  the 
traveler  was  once  more  swinging  steel  into  place. 
It  was  a  magnificent  feat,  yet  not  one  of  those  con 
cerned  in  it  could  feel  confident  that  the  work  had 
not  been  done  in  vain;  for  the  time  was  growing  ter 
ribly  short,  and,  although  the  ice  seemed  solid,  it  was 
rotting  fast. 

After  the  southern  half  of  the  span  had  been  com 
pleted  the  warmth  increased  rapidly,  therefore  the 
steel  crew  lengthened  its  hours.  The  men  worked 
from  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  until  eleven 
o'clock  at  night. 

On  the  1 3th,  without  warning  of  any  sort,  Garfield 
Glacier  began  moving  forward.  It  had  lain  inactive 
even  during  the  midwinter  thaw  which  had  started  its 
smaller  brother,  but  that  warm  spell  had  evidently 
had  its  effect  upon  the  giant,  for  now  he  shook  off  his 
lethargy  and  awoke.  He  stirred,  gradually  at  first 
and  without  sound,  as  if  bent  upon  surprising  the 
interlopers;  then  his  speed  increased.  As  the  glacier 
advanced  it  thrust  the  nine-foot  blanket  of  lake  ice 
ahead  of  it,  and  this  in  turn  crowded  the  river  ice 
down  upon  the  bridge.  The  movement  at  the  camp 
site  on  the  first  day  was  only  two  inches,  but  that  was 
sufficiently  serious. 

The  onset  of  Garfield  at  this  time  was,  of  course, 
unexpected;  for  no  forward  motion  had  ever  been 
reported  prior  to  the  spring  break-up.  The  action 
of  the  ice  heretofore  had  been  alarming;  but  now  con- 

37* 


THE    RACE 

sternation  spread,  a  panic  swept  the  ranks  of  the 
builders,  for  this  was  no  short-lived  phenomenon, 
this  was  the  annual  march  of  the  glacier  itself  which 
promised  to  continue  indefinitely.  A  tremendous 
cutting-edge,  nine  feet  in  thickness,  like  the  blade  of  a 
carpenter's  plane,  was  being  driven  against  the  bridge 
by  an  irresistible  force. 

Once  again  the  endless  thawing  and  chopping  and 
gouging  of  ice  began,  but  the  more  rapidly  the  en 
croaching  edge  was  cut  away  the  more  swiftly  did  it 
bear  down.  The  huge  mass  began  to  rumble;  it 
"calved,"  it  split,  it  detonated,  and,  having  finally 
loosened  itself  from  its  bed,  it  acquired  increased 
momentum.  As  the  men  with  chisels  and  steam- 
points  became  exhausted  others  took  their  places, 
but  the  structural  gang  clung  to  its  perch  above,  aug 
menting  the  din  of  riveters  and  the  groaning  of  blocks 
and  tackle.  Among  the  able-bodied  men  sleep  now 
was  out  of  the  question,  for  the  ice  gained  in  spite  of 
every  effort.  It  was  too  late  to  remove  the  steel  in 
the  uncompleted  span  to  a  place  of  safety,  for  that 
would  have  required  more  time  than  to  bridge  the  re 
maining  gap. 

Piling  began  to  buckle  and  bend  before  that  irre 
sistible  push ;  the  whole  nicely  balanced  mass  of  metal 
was  in  danger  of  being  unseated.  Mellen  cursed  the 
heavens  in  a  black  fury;  Parker  smiled  through  white 
lips;  O'Neil  ground  his  teeth  and  spurred  his  men  on. 

This  feverish  haste  brought  its  penalty.  On 
the  evening  of  the  i4th,  when  the  span  was  more 
than  three-quarters  finished,  a  lower  chord  section 
fouled  as  it  was  lifted,  and  two  loading-beams  at  the 
top  of  the  traveler  snapped. 

On  that  day  victory  had  been  in  sight ;  the  driving 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

of  the  last  bolt  had  been  but  a  question  of  hours,  a 
race  with  the  sliding  ice.  But  with  the  hoisting  ap 
paratus  out  of  use  work  halted.  Swiftly,  desperately, 
without  loss  of  a  moment's  time,  repairs  began.  No 
regrets  were  voiced,  no  effort  was  made  to  place  the 
blame,  for  that  would  have  caused  delay,  and  every 
minute  counted.  Eleven  hours  later  the  broken 
beams  were  replaced,  and  erection  had  recommenced. 

But  now  for  those  above  there  was  danger  to  life 
and  limb.  During  the  pause  the  ice  had  gained,  and 
no  effort  could  relieve  the  false- work  of  its  strain. 
All  knew  that  if  it  gave  way  the  workmen  would  be 
caught  in  a  chaos  of  collapsing  wood  and  steel. 

From  the  morning  of  May  i4th  until  midnight  of 
the  1 6th  the  iron- workers  clung  to  their  tasks.  They 
dropped  their  tools  and  ran  to  their  meals;  they 
gulped  their  food  and  fled  back  to  their  posts.  The 
weaker  ones  gave  out  and  staggered  away,  cursed 
and  taunted  by  their  companions.  They  were  rough 
fellows,  and  in  their  deep-throated  profanity  was  a 
prayer. 

The  strong  ones  struggled  on,  blind  with  weariness, 
but  upheld  by  that  desperate,  unthinking  courage  that 
animates  a  bayonet  charge.  It  seemed  that  every 
moment  must  see  the  beginning  of  that  slow  work  of 
demolition  which  would  send  them  all  scurrying  to 
safety;  but  hour  after  hour  the  piling  continued  to 
hold  and  the  fingers  of  steel  fa  reach  out,  foot  by 
foot,  for  the  concrete  pier  which  was  their  goal. 

At  midnight  of  the  i6th  the  last  rivet  was  driven; 
but  the  ice  had  gained  to  such  an  extent  that  the 
lower  chord  was  buckled  down-stream  about  eight 
inches,  and  the  distance  was  growing  steadily. 
Quickly  the  traveler  was  shifted  to  the  false-work 

374 


THE    RACE 

beyond  the  pier,  and  the  men  under  Mellen's  direc 
tion  fell  to  splitting  out  the  blocking. 

As  the  supports  were  chopped  away  the  mass  be 
gan  to  crush  the  last  few  wedges;  there  was  a  great 
snapping  and  rending  of  wood;  and  some  one,  strained 
to  the  breaking-point,  shouted: 

' '  Look  out !    There  she  goes ! ' ' 

A  cry  of  terror  arose,  the  men  fled,  trampling  one 
another  in  their  panic.  But  Mellen  charged  them 
like  a  wild  man,  firing  curses  and  orders  at  them 
until  they  rallied.  The  remaining  supports  were 
removed;  the  fifteen  hundred  tons  of  metal  settled 
into  place  and  rested  securely  on  its  foundations. 

O'Neil  was  the  last  man  ashore.  As  he  walked 
the  completed  span  from  Pier  Three  the  barricade 
of  piling  beneath  him  was  bending  and  tearing; 
but  he  issued  no  orders  to  remove  it,  for  the  river  was 
doing  that.  In  the  general  haste  pile-drivers,  hoists, 
boilers,  and  various  odds  and  ends  of  machinery  and 
material  had  been  left  where  they  stood.  They  were 
being  inundated  now;  many  of  them  were  all  but 
submerged.  There  was  no  possibility  of  saving  them 
at  present,  for  the  men  were  half  dead  from  ex 
haustion. 

As  he  lurched  up  the  muddy,  uneven  street  to  his 
quarters  Murray  felt  his  fatigue  like  a  heavy  burden, 
for  he  had  been  sixty  hours  without  sleep.  He  saw 
Slater  and  Appleton  and  the  rest  of  his  "boys  ";  he 
saw  Natalie  and  Eliza,  but  he  was  too  tired  to  speak 
to  them,  or  to  grasp  what  they  said.  He  heard  the 
workmen  cheering  Mellen  and  Parker  and  himself. 
It  was  very  foolish,  he  thought,  to  cheer,  since  the 
river  had  so  nearly  triumphed  and  the  final  test  was 
yet  to  come. 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

He  fell  upon  his  bed,  clothed  as  he  was;  an  hour 
later  the  false-work  beneath  Span  Three  collapsed. 

Although  the  bridge  was  not  yet  finished,  the 
most  critical  point  of  its  construction  had  been 
passed,  for  the  fourth  and  final  portion  would  be 
built  over  shallow  water,  and  no  great  difficulties 
were  to  be  expected  even  though  the  ice  went  out 
before  the  work  was  finished.  But  Murray  had 
made  his  promise  and  his  boast  to  complete  the 
structure  within  a  stated  time,  and  he  was  deter 
mined  to  live  up  to  the  very  letter  of  his  agreement 
with  the  Trust.  As  to  the  result  of  the  break-up, 
he  had  no  fear  whatever. 

For  once  Nature  aided  him:  she  seemed  to  smile 
as  if  in  approval  of  his  steadfastness.  The  move 
ment  of  the  channel  ice  became  irregular,  spasmodic, 
but  it  remained  firm  until  the  last  span  had  been 
put  in  place. 

Of  this  dramatic  struggle  Eliza  Appleton  had 
watched  every  phase  with  intensest  interest;  but 
when  at  last  she  knew  that  the  battle  was  won  she 
experienced  a  peculiar  revulsion  of  feeling.  So  long 
as  O'Neil  had  been  working  against  odds,  with  the 
prospect  of  ruin  and  failure  forever  imminent,  she 
had  felt  an  almost  painful  sympathy,  but  now  that 
he  had  conquered  she  felt  timid  about  congratulating 
him.  He  was  no  longer  to  be  pitied  and  helped;  he 
had  attained  his  goal  and  the  fame  he  longed  for. 
His  success  would  inevitably  take  him  out  of  her  life. 
She  was  very  sorry  that  he  needed  her  no  longer. 

She  did  not  watch  the  last  bridge-member  swung, 
but  went  to  her  room,  and  tried  to  face  the  future. 
Spring  was  here,  her  book  was  finished,  there  was 
the  need  to  take  up  her  life  again. 

376 


THE    RACE 

She  was  surprised  when  Murray  came  to  find  her. 

"I  missed  you,  Eliza,"  he  said.  "The  others  are 
all  down  at  the  river-bank.  I  want  you  to  con 
gratulate  me." 

She  saw,  with  a  jealous  twinge,  that  exultation 
over  his  victory  had  overcome  his  weariness,  that 
his  face  was  alight  with  a  fire  she  had  never  be 
fore  seen.  He  seemed  young,  vigorous,  and  mas 
terful  once  more. 

"Of  course,"  he  went  on,  "the  credit  belongs  to 
Parker,  who  worked  the  bridge  out  in  each  detail- 
he's  marvelous — and  to  Mellen,  who  actually  built 
it,  but  I  helped  a  little.  Praise  to  me  means  praise 
to  them." 

"It  is  all  over  now,  isn't  it?" 

"Practically.  Elaine  has  cabled  New  York  that 
we've  won.  Strictly  speaking,  we  haven't  as  yet, 
for  there's  still  the  break-up  to  face;  but  the  bridge 
will  come  through  it  without  a  scratch.  The  ice 
may  go  out  any  minute  now,  and  after  that  I  can 
rest."  He  smiled  at  her  gladly.  "It  will  feel  good 
to  get  rid  of  all  this  responsibility,  won't  it?  I 
think  you've  suffered  under  it  as  much  as  I  have." 

A  little  wistfully  she  answered:  "You're  going  to 
realize  that  dream  you  told  me  about  the  day  of  the 
storm  at  Kyak.  You  have  conquered  this  great 
country — just  as  you  dreamed." 

He  acquiesced  eagerly,  boyishly.  "Yes.  Whir 
ring  wheels,  a  current  of  traffic,  a  broad  highway  of 
steel — that's  the  sort  of  monument  I  want  to  leave." 

"Sometime  I'll  come  back  and  see  it  all  completed 
and  tell  myself  that  I  had  a  little  part  in  making  it." 

"Come  back?"  he  queried.     "Why,  you're  going 
to  stay  till  we're  through,  aren't  you?" 
25  377 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

"Oh  no !  I'm  going  south  with  the  spring  flight — 
on  the  next  boat,  perhaps." 

His  face  fell;  the  exultant  light  gradually  faded 
from  his  eyes. 

"Why — I  had  no  idea!    Aren't  you  happy  here?" 

She  nodded.  "But  I  must  try  to  make  good  in 
my  work  as  you  have  in  yours." 

He  was  looking  at  her  sorrowfully,  almost  as  if 
she  had  deserted  him.  "That's  too  bad,  but — I 
suppose  you  must  go.  Yes;  this  is  no  place  for 
you.  I  dare  say  other  people  need  you  to  bring 
sunshine  and  joy  to  them  just  as  we  old  fellows  do, 
but — I've  never  thought  about  your  leaving.  It 
wouldn't  be  right  to  ask  you  to  stay  here  among 
such  people  as  we  are  when  you  have  so  much  ahead 
of  you.  Still,  it  will  leave  a  gap.  Yes  —  it  cer 
tainly  will — leave  a  gap." 

She  longed  desperately  to  tell  him  how  willingly 
she  would  stay  if  he  only  asked  her,  but  the  very 
thought  shocked  her  into  a  deeper  reserve. 

"I'm  going  East  to  sell  my  book,"  she  said,  stiffly. 
"You've  given  me  the  climax  of  the  story  in  this 
race  with  the  seasons." 

"Is  it  a — love  story?"  he  asked. 

Eliza  flushed.     ' '  Yes.     It's  mostly  love. ' ' 

"You're  not  at  all  the  girl  I  thought  you  when 
we  first  met.  You're  very — different.  I'm  sure  I 
won't  recognize  myself  as  the  hero.  Who — or  what 
is  the  girl  in  the  story?" 

"Well,  she's  just  the  kind  of  girl  that  would  appeal 
to  a  person  like  you.  She's  tall  and  dark  and 
dashing,  and — of  course,  she's  remarkably  beautiful. 
She's  very  feminine,  too." 

"What's  her  name?" 

378 


THE    RACE 

Miss  Appleton  stammered:  "Why — I — called  her 
Violet — until  I  could  think  of  a  better — " 

"What's  wrong  with  Violet?  You  couldn't  think 
of  a  better  name  than  that.  I'm  fond  of  it." 

"Oh,  it's  a  good  book-name,  but  for  real  life  it's 
too — delicate."  Eliza  felt  with  vexation  that  her 
face  was  burning.  She  was  sure  he  was  laughing 
at  her. 

"Can't  I  read  the  manuscript?"  he  pleaded. 

"  Heavens!  No!  I — "  She  changed  the  subject 
abruptly.  "I've  left  word  to  be  called  the  minute 
the  ice  starts  to  go  out. .  I  want  to  see  the  last  act 
of  the  drama." 

When  O'Neil  left  her  he  was  vaguely  perplexed, 
for  something  in  her  bearing  did  not  seem  quite 
natural.  He  was  forlorn,  too,  at  the  prospect  of 
losing  her  He  wondered  if  fathers  suffered  thus, 
or  if  a  lover  could  be  more  deeply  pained  at  a  parting 
than  he.  Somehow  he  seemed  to  share  the  feelings 
of  both. 


XXVII 

HOW   A   DREAM   CAME   TRUE 

CARLY  on  the  following  morning  Eliza  was 
A-J  awakened  by  a  sound  of  shouting  outside  her 
window.  She  lay  half  dazed  for  a  moment  or  two, 
until  the  significance  of  the  uproar  made  itself 
apparent;  then  she  leaped  from  her  bed. 

Men  were  crying : 

4 'There  she  goes!" 

' 'She's  going  out!" 

Doors  were  slamming,  there  was  the  rustle  and 
scuff  of  flying  feet,  and  in  the  next  room  Dan  was 
evidently  throwing  himself  into  his  clothes  like  a 
fireman.  Eliza  called  to  him,  but  he  did  not  answer ; 
and  the  next  moment  he  had  fled,  upsetting  some 
article  of  furniture  in  his  haste.  Drawing  her  cur 
tains  aside,  the  girl  saw  in  the  brightening  dawn 
men  pouring  down  the  street,  dressing  as  they  went. 
They  seemed  half  demented;  they  were  yelling  at 
one  another,  but  she  could  not  gather  from  their 
words  whether  it  was  the  ice  which  was  moving  or— 
the  bridge.  The  bridge!  That  possibility  set  her 
to  dressing  with  tremulous  fingers,  her  heart  sick 
with  fear.  She  called  to  Natalie,  but  scarcely 
recognized  her  own  voice. 

"I — don't  know,"  came  the  muffled  reply  to  her 
question.  "It  sounds  like  something — terrible.  I'm 

780 


HOW   A    DREAM    CAME   TRUE 

afraid  Dan  will  fall  in  or — get  hurt."  The  confusion 
in  the  street  was  growing.  "Eliza!"  Natalie's 
voice  was  tragic. 

"What  is  it,  dear?" 

"H-helpme,  quick!" 

"How?" 

"I  can't  find  my  other  shoe." 

But  Eliza  was  sitting  on  the  floor,  lacing  up  her 
own  stout  boots,  and  an  instant  later  she  followed 
her  brother,  pursued  by  a  wail  of  dismay  from  the 
adjoining  chamber.  Through  the  chill  morning  light 
she  hurried,  asking  many  questions,  but  receiving  no 
coherent  reply  from  the  racing  men;  then  after  end 
less  moments  of  suspense  she  saw  with  relief  that 
the  massive  superstructure  of  the  bridge  was  still 
standing.  Above  the  shouting  she  heard  another 
sound,  indistinct  but  insistent.  It  filled  the  air  with 
a  whispering  movement;  it  was  punctuated  at  inter 
vals  by  a  dull  rumbling  and  grinding.  She  found 
the  river-bank  black  with  forms,  but  like  a  cat  she 
wormed  her  way  through  the  crowd  until  the  whole 
panorama  lay  before  her. 

The  bridge  stood  as  she  had  seen  it  on  the  yester 
day — slender,  strong,  superb  in  the  simplicity  of  its 
splendid  outline;  but  beneath  it  and  as  far  as  her 
eyes  could  follow  the  river  she  saw,  not  the  solid 
spread  of  white  to  which  she  had  become  accustomed, 
but  a  moving  expanse  of  floes.  At  first  the  winter 
burden  slipped  past  in  huge  masses,  acres  in  extent, 
but  soon  these  began  to  be  rent  apart;  irregular 
black  seams  ran  through  them,  opened,  closed,  and 
threw  up  ridges  of  ice-shavings  as  they  ground 
together.  The  floes  were  rubbing  against  the  banks, 
they  came  sliding  out  over  the  dry  shore  like  tre- 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

mendous  sheets  of  cardboard  manipulated  by  unseen 
hands,  and  not  until  their  nine-foot  edges  were  ex 
posed  to  view  did  the  mind  grasp  the  appalling 
significance  of  their  movement.  They  swept  down 
in  phalanxes  upon  the  wedge-like  ice-breakers  which 
stood  guard  above  the  bridge-piers,  then  they  halted, 
separated,  and  the  armored  cutting-edges  sheared 
through  them  like  blades. 

A  half-mile  below,  where  the  Salmon  flung  itself 
headlong  against  the  upper  wing  of  Jackson  Glacier, 
the  floating  ice  was  checked  by  the  narrowed  passage 
way.  There  a  jam  was  forming,  and  as  the  river 
heaved  and  tore  at  its  growing  burden  a  spectacular 
struggle  went  on.  The  sound  of  it  came  faintly 
but  impressively  to  the  watchers — a  grinding  and 
crushing  of  bergs,  a  roar  of  escaping  waters.  Frag 
ments  were  up-ended,  masses  were  rearing  them 
selves  edgewise  into  the  air,  were  overturning  and 
collapsing.  They  were  wedging  themselves  into 
every  conceivable  angle,  and  the  crowding  procession 
from  above  was  adding  to  the  barrier  momentarily. 
As  the  passageway  became  blocked  the  waters  rose ; 
the  river  piled  itself  up  so  swiftly  that  the  eye  could 
note  its  rise  along  the  banks. 

But  the  attention  of  the  crowd  was  divided  be 
tween  the  jam  and  something  far  out  on  the  bridge 
itself.  At  first  glance  Eliza  did  not  comprehend; 
then  she  heard  a  man  explaining: 

"He  was  going  out  when  we  got  here,  and  now  he 
won't  come  back." 

The  girl  gasped,  for  she  recognized  the  distant 
figure  of  a  man,  dwarfed  to  puny  proportions  by  the 
bulk  of  the  structure  in  the  mazes  of  which  he 
stood.  The  man  was  O'Neil;  he  was  perched  upon 

382 


HOW  A   DREAM    CAME   TRUE 

one  of  the  girders  near  the  center  of  the  longest 
span,  where  he  could  watch  the  attack  upon  the 
pyramidal  ice-breakers  beneath  him. 

"He's  a  fool,"  said  some  one  at  Eliza's  back. 
"  That  jam  is  getting  bigger." 

"He'd  better  let  the  damned  bridge  take  care  of 
itself." 

She  turned  and  began  to  force  her  way  through 
the  press  of  people  between  her  and  the  south 
abutment.  She  arrived  there,  disheveled  and  pant 
ing,  to  find  Slater,  Mellen,  and  Parker  standing  in 
the  approach.  In  front  of  them  extended  the  long 
skeleton  tunnel  into  which  Murray  had  gone. 

"Mr.  O'Neil  is  out  there!"  she  cried  to  Tom. 

Slater  turned  and,  reading  the  tragic  appeal  in 
her  face,  said  reassuringly : 

"Sure!    But  he's  all  right." 

"They  say — there's  danger." 

"Happy  Tom's"  round  visage  puckered  into  a 
doubtful  smile.  "Oh,  he'll  take  care  of  himself." 

Mellen  turned  to  the  girl  and  said  briefly : 

"There's  no  danger  whatever." 

But  Eliza's  fear  was  not  to  be  so  easily  quieted. 

"Then  why  did  he  go  out  alone?  What  are  you 
men  doing  here?" 

"It's  his  orders,"  Tom  told  her. 

Mellen  was  staring  at  the  jam  below,  over  which 
the  Salmon  was  hurling  a  flood  of  ice  and  foaming 
waters.  The  stream  was  swelling  and  rising  steadily ; 
already  it  had  nearly  reached  the  level  of  the  timber- 
line  on  the  left  bank;  the  blockade  was  extending  up 
stream  almost  to  the  bridge  itself.  Mellen  said 
something  to  Parker,  who  shook  his  head  silently. 

Dan  Appleton  shouldered  his  way  out  of  the  crowd, 
383 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

with  Natalie  at  his  heels.  She  had  dressed  herself 
in  haste:  her  hair  was  loose,  her  jacket  was  buttoned 
awry ;  on  one  foot  was  a  shoe,  on  the  other  a  bedroom 
slipper  muddy  and  sodden.  Her  dark  eyes  were 
big  with  excitement. 

"Why  don't  you  make  Murray  come  in?"  Dan 
demanded  sharply. 

"He  won't  do  it,"  muttered  Slater. 

"The  jam  is  growing.  Nobody  knows  what  '11 
happen  if  it  holds  much  longer.  If  the  bridge 
should  go — 

Mellen  whirled,  crying  savagely:  "It  won't  go! 
All  hell  couldn't  take  it  out." 

From  the  ranks  of  the  workmen  came  a  bellow 
of  triumph,  as  an  unusually  heavy  ice-floe  was 
swept  against  the  breakers  and  rent  asunder.  The 
tumult  of  the  imprisoned  waters  below  was  growing 
louder  every  moment:  across  the  lake  came  a  sten 
torian  rumble  as  a  huge  mass  was  loosened  from  the 
front  of  Garfield.  The  channel  of  the  Salmon  where 
the  onlookers  stood  was  a  heaving,  churning  caldron 
over  which  the  slim  bridge  flung  itself  defiantly. 

Eliza  plucked  at  her  brother's  sleeve  imploringly, 
and  he  saw  her  for  the  first  time. 

"Hello,  Sis,"  he  cried.     "How  did  you  get  here?" 

"Is  he  in — danger,  Danny?" 

"Yes — no!  Mellen  says  it's  all  right,  so  it  must 
be,  but — that  dam— 

At  that  moment  Natalie  began  to  sob  hysterically, 
and  Dan  turned  his  attention  to  her. 

But  his  sister  was  not  of  the  hysterical  kind. 
Seizing  Tom  Slater  by  the  arm,  she  tried  to  shake 
him,  demanding  fiercely : 

"Suppose  the  jam  doesn't  give  way!  What  will 
384 


HOW  A  DREAM   CAME  TRUE 

happen?'*  "Happy  Tom"  stared  at  her  uncompre- 
hendingly.  Her  voice  was  shrill  and  insistent. 
"Suppose  the  water  rises  higher.  Won't  the  ice 
sweep  down  on  the  bridge  itself?  Won't  it  wreck 
everything  if  it  goes  out  suddenly?  Tell  me — " 

"It  can't  hold.  Mellen  says  so."  Slater,  like  the 
others,  found  it  impossible  to  keep  his  eyes  from  the 
river  where  those  immeasurable  forces  were  at 
play;  then  in  his  peculiar  irascible  manner  he  com 
plained:  "I  told  'em  we  was  crazy  to  try  this.  It 
ain't  a  white  man's  country;  it  ain't  a  safe  place  for 
a  bridge.  There's  just  one  God-awful  thing  after 
another — "  He  broke  into  a  shout,  for  Eliza  had 
slipped  past  him  and  was  speeding  like  a  shadow 
out  across  the  irregularly  spaced  ties  upon  which 
the  bridge  track  was  laid. 

Mellen  whirled  at  the  cry  and  made  after  her, 
but  he  might  as  well  have  tried  to  catch  the  wind. 
As  she  ran  she  heard  her  brother  shout  in  sudden 
alarm  and  Natalie's  voice  raised  in  entreaty,  but 
she  sped  on  under  an  impulse  as  irresistible  as  panic 
fear.  Down  through  the  openings  beneath  her  feet 
she  saw,  as  in  a  nightmare,  the  sweeping  flood, 
burdened  with  plunging  ice  chunks  and  flecked  with 
foam.  She  seemed  to  be  suspended  above  it;  yet 
she  was  running  at  reckless  speed,  dimly  aware  of 
the  consequences  of  a  misjudged  footstep,  but  fearful 
only  of  being  overtaken.  Suddenly  she  hated  her 
companions;  her  mind  was  in  a  furious  revolt  at 
their  cowardice,  their  indecision,  or  whatever  it  was 
that  held  them  like  a  group  of  wooden  figures  safe 
on  shore  while  the  man  whose  life  was  worth  all 
theirs  put  together  exposed  himself  to  needless  peril. 
That  he  was  really  in  danger  she  felt  sure.  She 

385 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

knew  that  Murray  was  apt  to  lose  himself  in  his 
dreams;  perhaps  some  visionary  mood  had  blinded 
him  to  the  menace  of  that  mounting  ice-ridge  in 
front  of  the  glacier,  or  had  he  madly  chosen  to  stand 
or  fall  with  this  structure  that  meant  so  much  to 
him?  She  would  make  him  yield  to  her  own  terror, 
drag  him  ashore,  if  necessary,  with  her  ow~n  hands. 

She  stumbled,  but  saved  herself  from  a  fall,  then 
gathered  her  skirts  more  closely  and  rushed  on, 
measuring  with  instinctive  nicety  the  length  of 
every  stride.  It  was  not  an  easy  path  over  which 
she  dashed,  for  the  ties  were  unevenly  spaced;  gaping 
apertures  gave  terrible  glimpses  of  the  river  below, 
and  across  these  ghastly  abysses  she  had  to  leap. 

The  hoarse  bursts  of  shouting  from  the  shore 
ceased  as  the  workmen  beheld  her  flitting  out  along 
the  steel  causeway.  They  watched  her  in  dumb 
amazement. 

All, at  once  O'Neil  saw  her  and  hurried  to  meet  her. 

"Eliza!"  he  cried.  "Be  careful!  What  possessed 
you  to  do  this?" 

"Come  away,"  she  gasped.  "It's  dangerous. 
The  jam—  Look!"  She  pointed  down  the  channel. 

He  shook  his  head  impatiently. 

"Yes!"  she  pleaded.  "Yes!  Please!  They 
wouldn't  come  to  warn  you — they  tried  to  stop  me. 
You  must  go  ashore."  The  frightened  entreaty  in 
her  clear,  wide-open  eyes,  the  disorder  that  her 
haste  had  made  affected  O'Neil  strangely.  He 
stared  at  her,  bewildered,  doubtful,  then  steadied 
her  and  groped  with  his  free  hand  for  support.  He 
could  feel  her  trembling  wretchedly. 

"There's  no  danger,  none  whatever,"  he  said, 
soothingly.  "Nothing  can  happen." 

386 


HOW   A    DREAM    CAME   TRUE 

"You  don't  know.  The  bridge  has  never  been 
tried.  The  ice  is  battering  at  it,  and  that  jam — 
if  it  doesn't  burst — " 

"But  it  will.     It  can't  last  much  longer." 

"  It 's  rising— " 

"To  be  sure,  but  the  river  will  overflow  the  bank." 

"Please!"  she  urged.  "You  can  do  no  good  here. 
I'm  afraid." 

He  stared  at  her  in  the  same  incredulous  bewilder 
ment;  some  impulse  deep  within  him  was  struggling 
for  expression,  but  he  could  not  find  words  to  frame 
it.  His  eyes  were  oddly  bright  as  he  smiled  at  her. 

"Won't  you  go  ashore?"  she  begged. 

"I'll  take  you  back,  of  course,  but  I  want  to  stay 
and  see — " 

"Then— I'll  stay." 

"Eliza!"  Her  name  burst  from  his  lips  in  a  tone 
that  thrilled  her,  but  with  it  came  a  sudden  uproar 
from  the  distant  crowd,  and  the  next  instant  they 
saw  that  the  ice-barrier  was  giving  way.  The  pres 
sure  had  become  irresistible.  As  the  Salmon  had 
risen  the  ice  had  risen  also,  and  now  the  narrow 
throat  was  belching  its  contents  forth.  The  chaos 
of  up-ended  bergs  was  being  torn  apart ;  over  it  and 
through  it  burst  a  deluge  which  filled  the  valley 
with  the  roar  of  a  mighty  cataract.  Clouds  of  spray 
were  in  the  air;  broken  masses  were  leaping  and 
somersaulting;  high  up  on  the  shore  were  stranded 
floes  and  fragments,  left  in  the  wake  of  the  mov 
ing  body.  Onward  it  coursed,  clashing  and  grinding 
along  the  brittle  face  of  the  glacier;  over  the  alder 
tops  beyond  the  bend  they  could  see  it  moving 
faster  and  faster,  like  the  crest  of  a  tidal  wave.  The 
surface  of  the  river  lowered  swiftly  beneath  the 

387 


THE    IRON   TRAIL 

bridge;  the  huge  white  pans  ground  and  milled, 
shouldered  aside  by  the  iron-sheathed  pillars  of 
concrete. 

"See!  It's  gone  already.  Once  it  clears  a 
passageway  we'll  have  no  more  gorges,  for  the 
freshets  are  coming.  The  bridge  didn't  even  trem 
ble — there  wasn't  a  tremor,  not  a  scratch!"  Eliza 
looked  up  to  find  O'Neil  regarding  her  with  an 
expression  that  set  her  heart  throbbing  and  her 
thoughts  scattering.  She  clasped  a  huge,  cold  bolt- 
head  and  clung  to  it  desperately,  for  the  upheaval 
in  her  soul  rivaled  that  which  had  just  passed  before 
her  eyes.  The  bridge,  the  river,  the  valley  itself 
were  gyrating  slowly,  dizzily. 

"Eliza!"  She  did  not  answer.  "Child!"  O'Neil's 
voice  was  shaking.  "Why  did  you  come  to  me? 
Why  did  you  do  this  mad  thing?  I  saw  something 
in  your  face  that  I  can't  believe — that  I — can't 
think  possible.  It — it  gives  me  courage.  If  I  don't 
speak  quickly  I'll  never  dare.  Is  it — true?  Dear 
girl,  can  it  be?  I'm  so  old — such  a  poor  thing — 
you  couldn't  possibly  care,  and  yet,  why  did  you 
come?"  The  words  were  torn  from  him;  he  was 
gripped  and  shaken  by  a  powerful  emotion. 

She  tried  to  answer,  but  her  lips  were  soundless. 
She  closed  her  eyes,  and  Murray  saw  that  she  was 
whiter  than  the  foam  far  beneath.  He  stared  into 
the  colorless  face  upturned  to  his  until  her  eyelids 
fluttered  open  and  she  managed  to  voice  the  words 
that  clung  in  her  throat. 

"I've  always — loved  you  like  this." 

He  gave  a  cry,  like  that  of  a  starving  man;  she 
felt  herself  drawn  against  him.  But  now  he,  too, 
was  speechless;  he  could  only  press  her  close  while 

388 


"  ALWAYS?"— "  ALWAYS!' 


HOW  A    DREAM    CAME   TRUE 

his  mind  went  groping  for  words  to  express  that  joy 
which  was  as  yet  unbelievable  and  stunning. 

4 'Couldn't  you  see?"  she  asked,  breathlessly. 

He  shook  his  head.  "I'm  such  a  dreamer.  I'm 
afraid  it — can't  be  true.  I'm  afraid  you'll  go  away 
and — leave  me.  You  won't  ever — will  you,  Eliza? 
I  couldn't  stand  that."  Then  fresh  realization  of 
the  truth  swept  over  him;  they  clung  to  each  other, 
drunk  with  ecstasy,  senseless  of  their  surroundings. 

"I  thought  you  cared  for  Natalie,"  she  said,  softly, 
after  a  while. 

"It  was  always  you." 

"Always?" 

"Always!" 

She  turned  her  lips  to  his,  and  lifted  her  entwining 
anus. 

The  breakfast  -  gong  had  called  the  men  away 
before  the  two  figures  far  out  upon  the  bridge  picked 
their  way  slowly  to  the  shore.  The  Salmon  was  still 
flooded  with  hurrying  masses  of  ice,  as  it  would 
continue  to  be  for  several  days,  but  it  was  running 
free;  the  channel  in  front  of  the  glacier  was  open. 

Elaine  was  the  first  to  shake  O'Neil's  hand,  for 
the  members  of  Murray's  crew  held  aloof  in  some 
embarrassment . 

"It's  a  perfect  piece  of  work,"  said  he.  "I  con 
gratulate  you." 

The  others  echoed  his  sentiments  faintly,  hesi 
tatingly,  for  they  were  abashed  at  what  they  saw 
in  their  chief's  face  and  realized  that  words  were 
weak  and  meaningless. 

Dan  dared  not  trust  himself  to  speak.  He  had 
many  things  to  say  to  his  sister,  but  his  throat  ached 

389 


THE    IRON    TRAIL 

miserably.  Natalie  restrained  herself  only  by  the 
greatest  effort. 

It  was  Tom  Slater  who  ended  the  awkward  pause 
by  grumbling,  sarcastically: 

"If  all  the  young  lovers  are  safely  ashore,  maybe 
us  old  men  who  built  the  bridge  can  go  and  get 
something  to  eat." 

Murray  smiled  at  the  girl  beside  him. 

"I'm  afraid  they've  guessed  our  secret,  dear." 

"Secret!"  Slater  rolled  his  eyes.  "There  ain't 
over  a  couple  thousand  people  beside  us  that  saw 
you  pop  the  question.  I  s'pose  she  was  out  of  breath 
and  couldn't  say  no." 

Eliza  gasped  and  fled  to  her  brother's  arms. 

"  Sis !  Poor — little  Sis !"  Dan  cried,  and  two  tears 
stole  down  his  brown  cheeks.  "Isn't  this — just 
great?"  Then  the  others  burst  into  a  noisy  expres 
sion  of  their  gladness. 

"Happy  Tom"  regarded  them  all  pessimistically. 
"I  feel  bound  to  warn  you,"  he  said  at  length,  "that 
marriage  is  an  awful  gamble.  It  ain't  what  it 
seems." 

"It  is!"  Natalie  declared.  "It's  better,  and  you 
know  it." 

"It  turned  out  all  right  for  me,"  Tom  acknowl 
edged,  "because  I  got  the  best  woman  in  the  world. 
But  " — he  eyed  his  chief  accusingly — "I  went  about 
it  in  a  modest  way;  I  didn't  humiliate  her  in  public." 

He  turned  impatiently  upon  his  companions,  still 
pouring  out  their  babble  of  congratulations. 

"Come  along,  can't  you,"  he  cried,  "and  leave 
'em  alone.  I'm  a  dyspeptic  old  married  man,  but 
I  used  to  be  young  and  affectionate,  like  Murray. 
After  breakfast  I'm  going  to  cable  Mrs.  Slater  to 

390 


HOW  A   DREAM    CAME  TRUE 

come  and  bring  the  kids  with  her  and  watch  her 
bed-ridden,  invalid  husband  build  the  rest  of  this 
railroad.  I'm  getting  chuck  full  of  romance." 

"It  has  been  a  miraculous  morning  for  me,"  said 
Murray,  after  a  time,  "and  the  greatest  miracle  is — 
you,  dear." 

"This  is  just  the  way  the  story  ended  in  my  book," 
Eliza  told  him  happily — "our  book." 

He  pressed  her  closer.  "Yes!  Our  book — our 
bridge — our  everything,  Eliza." 

She  hid  her  blushing  face  against  his  shoulder, 
then  with  thumb  and  ringer  drew  his  ear  down  to 
her  lips.  Summoning  her  courage,  she  whispered: 

"Murray  dear,  won't  you  call  me — Violet?" 


THE   END 


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Marriage H.  G.  Wells 

Marriage  a  la  Mode Mrs.  Humphrey  Ward 

Master  Mummer,  The E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Masters  of  the  Wheatlands Harold  Bindloss 

Max Katherine  Cecil  Thurston 

Mediator  The Roy  Norton 

Memoirs  of  Sherlock  Holmes A.  Conan  Doyle 

Missioner,  The E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Miss  Gibbie  Gault Kate  Langley  Bosher 


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